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A  Slave  Auction  at  the  Fayette  County  Courthouse,  LcxiiiRlon.  K< 


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THE  BLUEGRASS  REGION  OF  KENTUCKY 

was  the  only  part  of  the  slaveholding  South  that 
Abraham  Lincoln  knew  intimately.  Even  before 
the  young  Illinois  lawyer  had  married  a  daugh- 
ter of  one  of  Lexington's  leading  statesmen,  he 
had  taken  Robert  Todd's  close  friend,  Henry 
Clay,  as  his  political  idol.  Mary  Todd,  who  had 
grown  to  young  womanhood  in  Lexington,  wid- 
ened Lincoln's  circle  of  acquaintances  in  the 
Bluegrass  to  include  such  diverse  personalities 
as  fudge  George  Robertson,  Lincoln's  counsel, 
who  supported  emancipation  in  the  abstract  but 
indignantly  demanded  that  the  President  pro- 
tect his  slave  property;  the  fiery  Cassius  M.  Clay, 
who  urged  Lincoln  to  proclaim  immediate 
emancipation  and  who  raised  a  motley  battalion 
in  Washington,  D.  C,  to  defend  the  Capital;  Dr. 
Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  the  doughty  Presbyter- 
ian minister  who  refused  to  ask  special  treatment 
for  the  members  of  his  family  in  the  Confeder- 
acy;  and  the  Doctor's  nephew,  Vice-President 
John  C.  Breckinridge,  who  rejected  a  demand 
that  he  use  his  position  to  thwart  Lincoln's  elec- 
tion but  immediately  took  up  arms  against  him. 

With  the  gifted  pen  that  has  won  praise  from 
so  many  students  of  Lincoln  and  the  Civil  War, 
William  H.  Townsend  here  describes  the  fabu- 
lous Bluegrass  region  which  had  so  large  a  part 
in  shaping  Lincoln's  views  about  emancipation 
and  secession.  Lexington,  heart  of  the  Bluegrass, 
had  early  been  called  the  "Athens  of  the  West," 
and  the  grace  and  culture  of  its  pleasure-loving 
aristocracy  could  hardly  have  failed  to  impress 
any  thinking  man.  Here  Lincoln  saw  the  genteel 
side  of  slavery— the  trusted  mammies  whose  word 
was  law,  the  valets  whose  talent  for  mixing  mint 
juleps  was  famous— but  he  also  saw  the  public 
whipping  post,  slave  jails,  and  slave  auctions, 
and  the  disregard  for  the  humanity  of  the  Negro. 

Lincoln  and  the  Bluegrass  has  grown  out  of 
an  earlier  work  by  Mr.  Townsend,  Lincoln  and 
His  Wife's  Home  Town,  published  twenty-six 
years  ago.  The  appearance  of  so  much  addi- 
tional Lincoln  and  Civil  War  source  materials 
in  the  past  quarter  of  a  century  has  enabled  Mr. 
Townsend  to  develop  his  study  of  Lincoln's  rela- 
tion to  the  Bluegrass  with  greater  insight  and 
clarity.  The  book  contains  sixty  illustrations, 
main  of  them  previously  unpublished  photo- 
graphs from  Mr.  Townsend's  collection. 


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LINCOLN  ROOM 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


MEMORIAL 

the  Class  of  1901 

founded  by 

HARLAN  HOYT  HORNER 

and 

HENRIETTA  CALHOUN  HORNER 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://archive.org/details/lincolnbluegrassOOtown 


The 

Cassius  Jiarcellus  Clay 

Gdition 

Autographed  by  the  author 
for  members  of  the 

CIVIL  WAR 
BOOK  CLUB 


'-^ 


Abraham  Lincoln 
Meserve  Collection 


Lincoln  and  the 
Bluegrass 

SLAVERY  AND  CIVIL  WAR  IN 
KENTUCKY 


By  William  H.  Townsend 

University  of  Kentucky  Press 


COPYRIGHT  ©  1955  BY  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  KENTUCKY  PRESS 
COMPOSED  AND  PRINTED  AT  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  KENTUCKY 
LIBRARY   OF   CONGRESS   CATALOG   CARD    NUMBER:    55-10383 


f73.7l.fe3 

BTLLJIi 


KO0AA 


To  my  wife  Genevieve,  our  daughter  Mary  Genevieve, 
and  our  young  granddaughter  Mary  Elodie 


Preface 


IT  HAS  been  more  than  twenty-five  years  since  Lincoln  and 
His  Wife's  Home  Town,  from  which  the  present  work  has  de- 
veloped, first  came  off  the  press.  During  this  period  I  have  had 
the  benefit  of  important  and  relevant  sources  which  were  either 
unknown  or  unavailable  in  1929.  The  Abraham  Lincoln  As- 
sociation of  Springfield,  Illinois,  has  assembled  The  Collected 
Works  into  eight  large  volumes  which  contain  hundreds  of 
Lincoln  letters  and  documents  heretofore  unpublished.  The 
Herndon-Weik  manuscripts  and  the  Robert  Todd  Lincoln  Col- 
lection are  now  open  for  inspection  and  research  in  the  Library 
of  Congress.  The  diaries  of  the  Reverend  William  Moody 
Pratt,  a  veritable  gold  mine  of  information  about  Lexington 
and  the  Bluegrass  from  1833  until  long  after  the  Civil  War, 
are  in  the  Library  of  the  University  of  Kentucky.  Diligence 
and  luck  have  added  to  my  own  collection  of  Lincolniana 
many  items  which  have  proved  useful  in  the  present  under- 
taking. As  before,  whenever  possible  I  have  allowed  original 
sources  to  speak  for  themselves. 

It  is  my  opinion  that  the  analysis  of  this  new  material  af- 
fords a  broader  perspective  and  deeper  insight  into  the  affirma- 
tion made  in  the  preface  to  the  earlier  book— that  Abraham 
Lincoln's  personal  contacts  with  slavery  in  the  Bluegrass  gave 
him  a  firsthand  knowledge  of  the  "peculiar  institution"  that 
he  could  have  acquired  in  no  other  way.  The  impact  of  these 
experiences  upon  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  circumstances  sur- 


vni  PREFACE 

rounding  them  can  hardly  be  more  aptly  stated  than  in  the 
following  paragraphs  of  that  preface. 

"Lexington  lay  in  the  heart  of  the  largest  slaveholding  sec- 
tion of  Kentucky.  Here  in  the  far-famed  Bluegrass  region, 
with  its  chivalry  and  romance,  its  culture  and  traditions,  the 
various  aspects  of  African  bondage  were  fairly  and  accurately 
presented.  Here  the  future  Emancipator  saw  vexatious  prob- 
lems and  the  difficulties  of  their  solution  from  the  Southerner's 
own  viewpoint.  Here,  also,  the  fires  of  antislavery  agitation 
burned  fitfully  but  furiously,  giving  Lincoln,  as  he  said,  his 
'first  real  specific  alarm  about  the  institution  of  slavery.' 

"Lincoln's  well-known  conservatism  on  the  'dominant  ques- 
tion' went  a  long  way  toward  making  him  the  nominee  of  the 
Republican  party  for  President  in  1860.  It  brought  to  him  the 
powerful  support  of  the  Border  States  delegates  who  believed 
that  he  possessed  a  sympathetic  understanding  of  their  prob- 
lem and  could  deal  with  it  better  than  any  other  candidate 
before  the  convention.  During  the  anxious  days  following  his 
election,  as  the  nation  drifted  steadily  into  Civil  War,  the  new 
President  was  gravely  aware  of  the  importance  of  Kentucky 
in  the  approaching  conflict.  'I  think  to  lose  Kentucky  is  nearly 
the  same  as  to  lose  the  whole  game,'  he  wrote  Senator  Brown- 
ing. Lincoln  also  realized  that  the  first  danger  of  secession  in 
Kentucky  centered  about  the  capital  city  of  the  Bluegrass,  and 
in  the  succeeding  pages  we  shall  see  how  desperately  the  strug- 
gle was  waged  in  that  section  and  how  eventually  the  state  was 
saved  to  the  Union." 

Here,  near  the  borderland  of  freedom,  domestic  ties  were 
rent  asunder,  brother  against  brother,  father  against  son,  the 
whole  social  structure  crumbling  in  the  vast  upheaval. 
Throughout  those  dark,  bitter,  tragic  days,  Lincoln  never  lost 
contact  with  Kentucky.  Always  she  and  her  citizens,  even  those 
arrayed  in  arms  against  the  government,  were  the  objects  of 
his  patient  solicitude. 

In  the  laborious  task  of  locating  and  assembling  material, 
it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  have  the  constant  and  capable 


PREFA  CE  ix 

co-operation  of  various  public  institutions,  as  well  as  the  ac- 
tive assistance  and  kindly  interest  of  many  individual  friends. 
Among  the  former,  I  must  thank  the  Lexington  Public  Library, 
Transylvania  College  Library,  University  of  Kentucky  Library, 
the  Filson  Club,  Louisville  Free  Public  Library,  Kentucky 
State  Historical  Society,  Library  of  Congress,  Wisconsin  His- 
torical Society,  Abraham  Lincoln  Foundation,  State  University 
of  Iowa  Library,  Illinois  State  Historical  Library,  and  the  De- 
partment of  Lincolniana  of  Lincoln  Memorial   University. 

Among  the  latter,  my  warmest  thanks  and  appreciation  are 
due  to  Clyde  Walton,  Iowa  City,  Iowa;  Irving  Stone,  Beverly 
Hills,  California;  Ralph  Newman  and  Mrs.  Foreman  M.  Le- 
bold,  Chicago,  Illinois;  Mrs.  Philip  B.  Kunhardt,  Morristown, 
New  Jersey;  Bruce  Catton,  New  York  City;  Donald  M.  Hobart, 
Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania;  Percy  C.  Powell  and  David  C. 
Mearns,  Washington,  D.  C;  R.  Gerald  McMurtry,  Harrogate, 
Tennessee;  Louis  Warren,  Fort  Wayne,  Indiana;  Mrs.  Lewis 
C.  Williams,  Evanston,  Illinois;  Holman  Hamilton,  Hambleton 
Tapp,  Miss  Jacqueline  Bull,  Miss  Roemel  Henry,  Miss  Virginia 
Hayes,  Joe  Jordan,  Mrs.  Louis  Lee  Haggin,  Louis  Lee  Haggin, 
II,  and  Dr.  Josephine  Hunt,  Lexington,  Kentucky. 

Mrs.  Martha  B.  Cheek,  wife  of  Professor  Frank  J.  Cheek, 
Jr.,  of  the  University  of  Kentucky,  a  great-great-niece  of  Denton 
Offutt,  has  generously  made  available  to  me  the  voluminous 
records  accumulated  by  her  through  long  years  of  research 
concerning  the  Offutt  family. 

I  must  express  particularly  my  abiding  gratitude  to  my  dear 
friends  J.  Winston  Coleman  and  Thomas  D.  Clark  of  Lexing- 
ton, Kentucky,  and  Harry  E.  Pratt  and  his  wife  Marion  of 
Springfield,  Illinois.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  without 
their  invaluable  aid  in  research  suggestions,  verifying  sources, 
supplying  pictures,  reading  the  manuscript,  and,  above  all, 
their  constant  encouragement,  the  writing  of  this  book  in  such 
"off  hours"  as  an  active  law  practice  affords  could  not  have 
been  accomplished.  Mrs.  Mary  Ada  Sullivan  has  checked  cita- 
tions, arranged  footnotes,  and  prepared  the  manuscript  for  the 


x  PREFACE 

publisher  with  an  unflagging  interest  and  efficiency  much  be- 
yond the  call  of  duty. 

This  new  work  has  been  written  almost  upon  the  very  site 
of  Mme.  Mentelle's  famous  boarding  school  that  nurtured  Mary 
Todd.  I  express  the  hope  that  the  reader  may  find  in  these 
pages  interesting  and  significant  glimpses  of  her  early  years  and 
of  the  friends  and  background  of  her  girlhood,  as  well  as  a 
clearer  view  of  some  of  the  forces  and  events  that  made  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  the  greatest  exponent  of  human  freedom,  and 
that  certain  individuals,  hitherto  but  little  known  to  history, 
may  receive  just  and  adequate  recognition  for  the  deed  that 
made  them  vivid,  outstanding  figures  in  their  own  day  and 
generation. 


William  H.  Townsend 


February  12,  1955 
28  Mentelle  Park 
Lexington,  Kentucky 


Contents 


PREFACE  PAGE    Vll 

1.  Athens  of  the  West  1 

2.  The  Lincolns  of  Fayette  16 

3.  The  Early  Todds  25 

4.  The  Little  Trader  from  Hickman  Creek  30 

5.  Mary  Ann  Todd  46 

6.  Slavery  in  the  Bluegrass  70 

7.  Grist  to  the  Mill  81 

8.  The  True  American  99 

9.  The  Lincolns  Visit  Lexington  120 

10.  Widow  Sprigg  and  Buena  Vista  141 

11.  A  House  Divided  157 

12.  Milly  and  Alfred  176 

13.  The  Buried  Years  192 

14.  Storm  Clouds  209 

15.  Rebellion  239 

16.  Stirring  Days  in  Kentucky  269 

17.  Problems  of  State  and  In-Law  Trouble  299 

18.  With  Malice  toward  None  320 

19.  Lilac  Time  352 

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL    NOTES  359 

INDEX  387 


Illustrations 


Abraham  Lincoln  frontispiece 

Transylvania  University  in  the  1820's;  Title  page  of  The  Ken- 
tucky Preceptor  that  Lincoln  studied;  Thomas  Lincoln  testifies 
how  his  brother  spelled  his  name         between  pages  10  and  1 1 

Thomas  Lincoln's  stillhouse  near  Lexington;  "Ellerslie,"  home 
of  Levi  Todd,  as  it  looked  just  before  it  was  razed;  Robert  S. 
Todd  between  pages  26  and  27 

Receipts  signed  by  Lincoln  for  Denton  Offutt;  The  Rutledge 
mill  and  Denton  Offutt's  store  at  New  Salem,  rebuilt  on  the 
original  sites  between  pages  42  and  43 

Mary  Ann  Todd;  Home  of  "Widow"  Parker,  Mary  Todd's 
grandmother,  as  it  looks  today;  The  confectionery  of  Monsieur 
Giron;  Dr.  Ward's  Academy  between  pages  58  and  59 

Sale  of  "bucks"  and  "wenches"  on  Cheapside;  Slave  cabins  in 
the  Bluegrass  between  pages  74  and  75 

Reward  for  runaway  slave;  Slave  auction  on  Cheapside 

BETWEEN  PAGES  90  AND  91 

One  of  the  brass  cannon  used  in  the  defense  of  The  True  Amer- 
ican office;  Cassius  M.  Clay  between  pages  106  and  107 

Main  Street  in  Lexington  as  Lincoln  saw  it;  Slave  auction  in 
the  courthouse  yard;  The  home  of  Robert  S.  Todd,  as  it  looks 
today  between  pages  122  and  123 

"Nigger  Trader"  advertisements;  Slave  shackles 

BETWEEN  PAGES  138  AND  139 


xiv  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Title  page  of  Denton  Offutt's  book;  Joe  Offutt,  pupil  and  "spit 
'n'  image"  of  his  uncle  Denton;  "Mr.  Bell's  splendid  place"  in 
Lexington,  where  friends  of  the  Lincolns  lived;  "Buena  Vista," 
summer  home  of  Robert  S.  Todd,  with  slave  cabins,  as  it  looked 
before  it  was  razed  between  pages  154  and  155 

Dr.  Breckinridge's  knife,  designed  by  Clay;  Cassius  Clay's  "dress- 
up"  bowie  knife  and  dirk  between  pages  170  and  171 

Megowan's  slave  jail;  Where  Robards  kept  his  "choice  stock," 
as  it  looked  before  it  was  razed         between  pages  186  and  187 

Lincoln's  "indignation"  letter  to  George  B.  Kinkead;  Lexington 
in  1850;  The  old  Lexington  courthouse,  where  Lincoln  was 
sued;  Henry  Clay  between  pages  202  and  203 

Emilie  Todd,  as  she  looked  when  she  visited  the  Lincolns; 
Stephen  A.  Douglas,  debater;  Abraham  Lincoln,  on  the  hus- 
tings;   Mrs.    Lincoln's   letter   to   Emilie   about   her   husband's 

politics  BETWEEN  PAGES  218  AND  219 

John  C.  Breckinridge;  Abraham  Lincoln  to  Cassius  M.  Clay 

BETWEEN  PAGES  266  AND  267 

Handbill  ordering  acceptance  of  Confederate  money  in  Lexing- 
ton; Yankees  in  the  courthouse  yard;  Portrait  of  Judge  George 
Robertson;  General  John  Hunt  Morgan 

BETWEEN  PAGES  282  AND  283 

Martha  Todd  White,  Mrs.  Lincoln's  half  sister;  Mary  Todd 
Lincoln,  in  the  autumn  of  1863;  Emilie  Todd  Helm,  as  she 
looked  at  the  White  House;  Captain  David  Todd,  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln's half  brother  between  pages  314  and  315 

Major  General  Cassius  M.  Clay;  Abraham  Lincoln  in  1864; 
"Lieutenant"  Tad  Lincoln;  Martha  M.  Jones  and  Nellie;  Lieu- 
tenant Waller  R.  Bullock;  The  Reverend  Robert  J.  Breckin- 
ridge BETWEEN  PAGES  330  AND  331 

The  tomb  of  Henry  Clay;  The  Kentucky  delegation  to  Abra- 
ham Lincoln's  funeral  between  pages  346  and  347 


ONE 


Athens  of  the 
West 


LATE  afternoon  on  an  early  June  day,  1775,  in  that  new, 
enchanted  region  called  "Kaintuckee"1:  A  small  party  of  hunt- 
ers—lean, bronzed,  muscular,  with  rifles  in  hand  and  scalping 
knives  dangling  from  the  girdles  of  their  buckskin  shirts- 
emerged  from  a  dense  canebrake  that  skirted  the  waters  of 
Elkhorn  Creek.  Hungry  and  tired,  after  a  leisurely  reconnoiter 
they  pitched  camp  for  the  night  beside  a  clear  bubbling  spring 
that  gushed  from  a  crevice  in  a  huge  slab  of  moss-covered  lime- 
stone.2 

The  frugal  supper  of  parched  corn  and  jerked  venison  over, 
the  woodsmen  sat  around  the  blazing  logs  puffing  their  battered, 
old  pipes  in  drowsy  conversation.  The  day's  journey  had  led 
them  through  the  most  picturesque  and  fertile  country  in  all 
the  western  wilderness:3  luxuriant  vegetation  rooted  in  a  loose, 
deep,  black  mold;  giant  trees  of  red  and  bur  oak,  yellow  poplar, 
sugar  maple,  walnut,  blue  ash,  beech,  and  wild  cherry;  violets, 
honeysuckle,  and  wild  roses  that  perfumed  the  dim,  shaded 
ravines;  columbine,  sweet  William,  and  forget-me-nots  basking 
in  the  placid  sunshine;  songbirds— the  cardinal,  bluebird,  the 


2  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

brown  thrush,  and  the  mockingbird;  pheasants,  partridges,  wild 
turkey  and  the  ivory-billed  woodcock;  and  long  vistas  of  gently 
undulating  meadowland  covered  with  bluegrass,  dotted  with 
browsing  herds  of  elk,  buffalo,  and  deer.  Under  the  spell  of 
this  veritable  paradise  someone  about  the  fire  suggested  that 
a  station  be  established  on  the  site  of  the  camp,  and  various 
names  were  proposed  for  it.  "York"  and  "Lancaster"  were 
briefly  considered,  but  both  were  dropped  with  a  shout  for 
"Lexington." 

On  the  previous  April  19  the  first  patriot  blood  of  the 
Revolution  had  been  shed  on  the  village  commons  at  Lexing- 
ton in  distant  New  England,  and  avenging  minutemen  had 
crimsoned  the  green  hedges  along  the  road  from  Concord  to 
Boston  with  King  George's  fallen  redcoats.  The  news  of  this 
stirring  event  was  just  now  slowly  trickling  through  the  wilder- 
ness, and  every  pioneer  heart  glowed  with  patriotism.  Lexing- 
ton should  indeed  be  the  name  of  the  new  settlement,  and  by 
the  fireside  that  night  in  June,  1775,  the  outpost  on  the  banks 
of  the  Elkhorn  was  dedicated  to  the  cause  of  American  liberty.4 

The  rude  blockhouse  erected  on  the  site  soon  gave  way  to 
a  regular  stockade  of  more  than  a  dozen  cabins  built  in  the 
form  of  a  parallelogram  with  palisades  and  heavy  gates  of  point- 
ed logs.  With  the  close  of  the  Revolution  the  settlement  began 
a  steady  growth.  Streets  were  laid  off,  churches  established, 
and  the  first  schoolhouse  in  Kentucky  was  erected  on  the  public 
square  called  "Cheapside"  after  the  historic  old  marketplace 
in  London.5  Transylvania  Seminary,  the  first  institution  of 
higher  learning  in  the  West,  was  founded  within  the  next  few 
years. 

On  August  11,  1787,  John  Bradford  published  the  first 
newspaper  west  of  the  Alleghenies.  The  early  issues  of  the 
Kentucke  Gazette  consisted  of  four  pages  scarcely  larger  than 
a  folio  letterhead,  embellished  with  crude  woodcuts  which  the 
editor  whittled  into  shape  with  his  pocketknife.6  They  were 
printed  on  an  old,  dilapidated  hand  press  from  type  floated 
down  the  Ohio  on  a  flatboat  to  the  village  of  Limestone   (now 


ATHENS  OF  THE  WEST  3 

Maysville)  and  carried  to  Lexington  by  pack  horses  across 
swollen  streams  through  the  dense  forest  infested  by  skulking 
Indians. 

The  Gazette  was  a  boon  to  the  isolated  pioneers  who  were 
starved  for  news,  and  every  copy  was  eagerly  devoured  item 
by  item.  There  was  a  page  which  contained  "Foreign  Intelli- 
gence" from  London,  Paris,  Vienna,  and  Constantinople,  four 
months  old,  and  another  devoted  to  "American  Occurrences" 
from  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  which  had  happened  eight 
weeks  before.  "Locals,"  though  scarce,  were  not  wholly  lacking. 
The  editor  condemned  the  practice  of  "taming  bears,"  of  "light- 
ing fires  with  rifles";  he  noted  that  "persons  who  subscribe  to 
the  frame  meeting  house  can  pay  in  cattle  or  whiskey."  Charles 
Bland  advertised:  "I  will  not  pay  a  note  given  to  William 
Turner  for  three  second  rate  cows,  till  he  returns  a  rifle,  blan- 
ket, and  tomahawk  I  loaned  him."  The  public  was  warned 
that  certain  caches  of  "wheat,  corn,  and  potatoes  are  impreg- 
nated with  Arsenic  or  other  Subtil  poison"  for  marauding  In- 
dians "to  trap  them."  The  editor  promised  his  readers  "to  give 
quick  and  general  information  concerning  the  intentions  and 
behavior  of  our  neighboring  enemies,  and  put  us  on  guard." 
The  town  trustees  announced  that  "running  or  racing"  horses 
on  the  streets  would  no  longer  be  allowed.  Warned  Bradford: 
"That  noted  horse  thief  Mose  Murphy  is  said  to  have  been  in 
this  town  in  the  early  morning  of  Thursday  last."  A  few  days 
later  the  Gazette  laconically  announced  that  "on  Tuesday  last 
Jesse  Suggs  was  executed  in  this  town  for  horse  stealing,  agree- 
able to  sentence  of  the  late  court  of  Oyer  and  Terminer." 

Early  in  June,  1792,  the  first  legislature  convened  in  Lex- 
ington. Here  the  government  of  the  new  commonwealth  was 
organized,  and  Governor  Isaac  Shelby  took  the  oath  of  office 
with  much  pomp  and  ceremony.  With  the  arrival  of  statehood 
Lexington  rapidly  became  not  only  the  foremost  town  of  Ken- 
tucky, but  of  the  entire  Western  Country.  The  haunting  dread 
of  Indian  attacks  gradually  faded  away.  Coonskin  caps  and 
buckskin  hunting  shirts  were  replaced  by  fashionable  attire  of 


4  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

the  latest  eastern  styles,  as  the  prosperous  inhabitants  grew 
more  and  more  absorbed  in  the  business  of  the  town  and  the 
cultivation  of  the  fine  arts. 

Stores  bulged  with  large  and  varied  assortments  of  mer- 
chandise—glass, china,  hardware,  coffee,  Madeira  and  port  wines, 
India  nankeen,  dimity,  calicoes,  tamboured  and  jaconet  mus- 
lins, raw  silk  hose,  imported  linens  and  laces.  Show  windows 
which  displayed  samples  of  these  luxuries  also  advertised  luridly 
labeled  packages  of  Sovereign  Ointment  for  Itch,  Dr.  Gann's 
Anti-Bilious  Pills,  Damask  Lip  Salves,  and  Hamilton's  Grand 
Restorative  for  Dissipated  Pleasures.  Posted  in  public  places 
were  attractive  prices  being  paid  by  New  Orleans  dealers  for 
Kentucky  products  delivered  there  by  raft  and  flatboat. 

On  the  middle  fork  of  Elkhorn  Creek  that  meandered 
through  the  outskirts  of  the  rapidly  growing  town  Edward 
West  experimented  with  a  "specimen  of  a  boat  worked  by 
steam  applied  to  oars,"  which  the  Gazette  predicted  "will  be 
of  great  benefit  in  Navigation  of  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio 
rivers,"  adding  that  "Mr.  West  intends  to  apply  for  a  patent 
for  this  discovery." 

Another  invention  newly  arrived  also  received  much  public 
attention.  It  was  the  "physiognatrace,"  by  which  "perfect  like- 
nesses can  be  taken  in  a  few  seconds." 

The  Reverend  Jesse  Head,  who  would  someday  win  himself 
a  place  in  history  as  the  preacher  who  married  Abraham  Lin- 
coln's parents,  and  Porter  Clay,  Henry's  brother,  were  said  to 
be  the  best  cabinetmakers  in  the  new  country.  The  "high 
finish"  which  they  gave  "to  native  cherry  lumber  precludes 
the  regret  that  mahogany  is  not  to  be  had  but  at  an  immense 
cost." 

Several  religious  denominations  were  now  strong  enough  to 
erect  houses  of  worship,  and  the  Presbyterians,  Episcopalians, 
and  Catholics  had  church  buildings  sufficiently  attractive  to 
excite  the  comment  of  early  travelers. 

At  the  several  bookstores  the  best  and  latest  offerings  by 
eastern  publishers  could  be  had  at  "Philadelphia  retail  prices." 


ATHENS  OF  THE  WEST  5 

A  Main  Street  shop  sold  Clark's  Ov id,  Cicero's  Orations,  Scott's 
Dictionary,  Watts'  Psalms  &  Hymns,  Davidson's  Virgil,  Buck- 
anan's  Domestic  Medicines.  Mr.  Mullanphy  on  Cross  Street 
(later  Broadway)  announced  a  new  stock  soon  to  arrive  which 
would  contain  many  volumes  on  "law,  physics,  divinity,  his- 
tory, novels,  plays,  German  and  French  chapbooks,  together 
with  the  latest  music  for  flute  and  violin." 

The  growth  of  the  public  library,  organized  in  1795,  now 
made  it  necessary  to  move  into  more  commodious  quarters, 
where  it  enjoyed  the  solid  support  of  the  town's  leading  citizens. 

One  of  the  earliest  schools  was  the  Lexington  Grammar 
School,  established  by  Isaac  Wilson  of  "Philadelphia  College," 
who  was  described  by  the  wife  of  a  prominent  citizen  as  a 
"poor,  simple-looking  Simon,"  but  a  person  with  whom  she 
was  "thoroughly  satisfied"  as  a  teacher  for  her  two  young  sons. 
Several  girls'  schools,  including  one  for  "little  Misses,"  who 
were  taught  "reading  and  needle  work,"  were  well  attended. 
Waldemare  Mentelle,  of  whom  more  will  appear  hereafter, 
had  "lately  removed  to  the  town  of  Lexington,  where  he  pro- 
poses, with  the  assistance  of  his  wife,  to  teach  young  people 
French  language  and  dancing." 

Transylvania  Seminary,  the  struggling  little  Presbyterian 
school  originally  located  in  the  house  of  its  headmaster,  now 
chartered  as  Transylvania  University,  had  moved  to  a  substan- 
tial brick  building  of  eight  rooms.  Dr.  Samuel  Brown,  graduate 
of  Edinburgh,  noted  physician  and  teacher  of  medicine,  uncle 
of  the  little  girl  who  would  one  day  be  Mary  Todd  Lincoln's 
stepmother,  was  organizing  the  university's  medical  department. 
Dr.  Brown,  schooled  in  the  "prophylactic  use  of  the  cow-pox," 
had  already  vaccinated  more  than  500  persons  before  the  skep- 
tical physicians  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia  would  under- 
take the  experiment.7 

However,  the  noted  French  traveler,  Francois  A.  Michaux, 
made  rather  caustic  observations  on  the  "budding  metropolis" 
when  he  visited  Lexington  in  1802.  "They  are  nearly  all 
natives  of  Virginia,"  said  he.    "With  them,   the  passion  for 


6  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

gaming  and  spirituous  liquors  is  carried  to  excess,  which  fre- 
quently terminates  in  quarrels,  degrading  to  human  nature. 
The  public  houses  are  always  crowded,  more  especially  during 
the  sittings  of  the  courts  of  justice.  Horses  and  lawsuits  com- 
prise the  usual  topic  of  their  conversation.  If  a  traveler  happens 
to  pass  by,  his  horse  is  appreciated,  if  he  stops  he  is  presented 
with  a  glass  of  whiskey."  But  Michaux  also  noted  that  the 
homes  of  the  Kentuckians  were  neat,  the  women  "very  atten- 
tive to  their  domestic  concerns,"  Sundays  scrupulously  observed, 
and  the  children  "kept  punctually  at  school."8 

The  criticism  of  the  Frenchman  was  no  doubt  substantially 
correct,  certainly  so  as  to  the  early  practice  of  gaming  in  Lex- 
ington, which  largely  consisted  of  wagering  on  horse  races  and 
card  playing.  The  "ancient  and  honorable"  rites  of  the  card 
table  were  the  amusement  of  tavern  loungers,  travelers,  and 
the  best  citizens  alike.  Even  the  dignified  and  respected  John 
Bradford,  editor  of  the  Gazette,  and  the  Honorable  Henry 
Clay,  gallant  "Harry  of  the  West,"  were  not  immune  from  this 
intriguing  diversion  in  which  the  desire  to  win  exceeded  the 
mere  love  of  pecuniary  gain. 

One  morning  these  two  gentlemen  met  each  other  on  the 
street.  Luck  had  deserted  Bradford  the  previous  evening,  and 
the  turn  of  the  last  card  had  made  him  debtor  to  Clay  in  the 
sum  of  $40,000. 

"Clay,"  said  Bradford,  "what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
that  money  you  won  last  night?  My  entire  property,  you  know, 
won't  pay  the  half  of  it." 

"Oh,  give  me  your  note  for  five  hundred  dollars,"  said  Clay 
nonchalantly,  "and  let  the  balance  go."  The  note  was  promptly 
executed,  and  a  few  nights  later  chance  frowned  on  Clay,  and 
he  lost  $60,000  to  Bradford.  Next  day  the  same  conversation 
ensued  as  before,  except  the  situation  was  reversed,  and  Brad- 
ford quickly  dismissed  the  matter  saying:  "Oh,  give  me  back 
that  note  I  gave  you  the  other  day  for  five  hundred  dollars, 
and  we'll  call  it  square."9 

It  was  not  many  years,  however,  before  the  citizen  of  Lex- 


ATHENS  OF  THE  WEST  7 

ington  could  find  other  ways  to  spend  his  leisure.  Early  in  the 
first  decade  of  the  new  century  a  theater  was  built,  and  whatever 
itinerant  troupes  lacked  in  dramatic  art  was  made  up  in  range 
of  repertoire.  Playgoers  of  Lexington  were  treated  to  every- 
thing from  Macbeth  to  the  farce,  Matrimony,  or  the  Happy 
Imprisonment.  The  first  menageries  visited  the  town  when 
permission  was  given  Thomas  Adron  to  "shew  his  lyon"  on 
the  public  square  and  the  Gazette  advertised  the  exhibition  of 
a  "living  elephant."  "Perhaps  the  present  generation  may  never 
have  the  opportunity  of  seeing  a  living  elephant  again,"  said 
Bradford  editorially. 

Wax  figure  exhibits,  usually  held  in  the  ballroom  of  the 
local  tavern  at  which  the  exhibitor  stopped,  were  infrequent 
but  popular  sources  of  amusement.  These  figures  depicted 
tragedies,  famous  personages,  and  great  historical  events.  The 
killing  of  Alexander  Hamilton  by  Aaron  Burr  had  deeply 
aroused  the  Western  Country,  and  the  first  waxworks  which 
opened  in  Lexington,  while  Colonel  Burr  was  then  on  his  way 
to  Kentucky,  contained  a  graphic  reproduction  of  the  famous 
duel.10  Conspicuously  elevated  on  a  platform  the  images  of 
Colonel  Hamilton  and  Colonel  Burr  glared  stolidly  at  each 
other  over  their  long  leveled  pistols,  and  a  card  pinned  to  the 
latter's  coattails  bore  a  vivid,  if  inaccurate,  description  of  the 
encounter: 

Oh,  Aaron  Burr,  what  hast  thou  done? 
Thou  hast  shooted  dead  great  Hamilton. 
You  got  behind  a  bunch  of  thistle 
And  shot  him  dead  with  a  big  hoss-pistol. 

A  few  weeks  later,  when  Colonel  Burr  and  his  attendant 
rode  up  to  Wilson's  Tavern  at  the  end  of  a  journey  on  horse- 
back from  the  "unhealthy  and  inconsiderable"  village  of  Louis- 
ville,11 a  small  boy  recognized  him  from  the  likeness  he  had 
seen  at  the  waxworks  and  excitedly  notified  the  proprietor  of 
the  celebrity's  arrival.  After  a  journey  south,  Burr  returned 
to  Lexington,  where  he  remained  for  some  time  in  consultation 


8  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

with  Harman  Blennerhasset  and  others,  and  here,  as  it  was 
later  charged,  Burr  laid  some  of  his  deepest  plans  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  western  empire. 

He  was  still  in  town  when  Colonel  Joseph  Hamilton  Daviess, 
United  States  district  attorney,  filed  charges  of  treason  against 
him,  which  were  finally  dismissed,  in  the  midst  of  much  popular 
excitement,  on  motion  of  his  counsel,  Henry  Clay.  When 
Colonel  Burr  was  again  arraigned  for  treason  at  Richmond, 
Virginia,  Lexington  was  still  hotly  divided  upon  the  question 
of  the  defendant's  guilt,  and  the  chief  witness  for  the  prosecu- 
tion was  James  Wilkinson,  commanding  general  of  the  United 
States  Army,  an  early  citizen  of  Lexington  and  first  captain  of 
her  famous  light  infantry  company. 

The  Burr-Wilkinson  controversy,  however,  was  finally  over- 
shadowed and  forgotten  as  the  storm  clouds  of  war  with  Great 
Britain  appeared  in  the  distance.  On  June  22,  1807,  the  British 
warship  Leopard  bombarded  the  American  frigate  Chesapeake, 
its  deck  uncleared,  into  surrender,  and  the  Western  Country 
flamed  with  indignation.  From  that  day  on,  the  Lexington 
press  never  ceased  to  advocate  war  on  England.12  It  was  firmly 
believed  that  British  influence  lay  behind  the  Indian  excursions 
that  now  began  to  spring  up,  and  hostilities  had  actually  begun 
on  the  frontier  many  months  before  the  formal  declaration  of 
war.  Early  in  November,  1811,  Colonel  Daviess  left  Lexington 
with  a  company  of  volunteers  to  join  General  William  H. 
Harrison  against  the  Indians  on  the  upper  Wabash,  and  on  the 
morning  of  November  7  at  the  battle  of  Tippecanoe,  Lexington 
suffered  her  first  casualties  of  the  War  of  1812.  Colonel  Daviess 
fell  mortally  wounded  at  the  head  of  his  troops  with  three 
bullets  in  his  breast.13 

Lexington's  own  peerless  Harry  of  the  West  with  fiery  elo- 
quence was  leading  the  impetuous  youth  of  the  nation  to  a 
militant  resentment  of  long-suffered  foreign  aggression,  and 
when  on  Friday,  June  26,  1812,  the  postrider  galloped  into 
town  with  news  that  Congress  had  at  last  declared  war  on  Eng- 
land, enthusiasm  and  patriotic  ardor  swept  aside  all  bounds. 


ATHENS  OF  THE  WEST  9 

"Cannon  were  fired,  Captain  Hart's  company  of  Volunteer  In- 
fantry paraded,  and  joy  and  gladness  beamed  upon  the  coun- 
tenance of  every  friend  of  his  country."14  "News  of  the  Decla- 
ration of  War,"  said  the  Gazette  four  days  later,  "arrived  in 
this  place  on  Friday  last,  when  there  was  a  firing  of  cannon 
and  musquetry  commenced,  and  kept  up  until  late  in  the 
evening.  .  .  .  Houses  were  illuminated  and  most  decided  evi- 
dence of  approbation  of  the  measures,  was  everywhere  mani- 
fested." 

Six  companies  were  quickly  raised  in  Lexington  and  Fayette 
County.  The  muster  ground  swarmed  with  eager,  smooth- 
cheeked  lads  and  silent,  grizzled  Indian  fighters,  anxious  to 
shoulder  arms  against  the  hated  foe.  The  editor  of  the  Gazette 
laid  down  his  pen  for  a  rifle  and  joined  Captain  Hart's  infantry- 
men as  a  private. 

August  18,  1812,  was  a  gala  day  in  Lexington.  Never  before 
had  there  been  so  many  people  in  town.  Streets  were  blocked, 
windows  and  doors  jammed,  as  the  Fifth  Regiment  of  Kentucky 
Volunteers,  with  drums  beating  and  colors  flying,  "marched 
through  town  amidst  the  cheers  and  acclamations  of  a  vast 
concourse  of  their  grateful  fellow  citizens."  Refreshments  were 
served  at  Saunders'  Garden,  followed  by  an  eloquent  and  stir- 
ring address  from  Henry  Clay,  and  then  the  raw  but  ardent 
troops  adjusted  their  knapsacks  and  started  on  the  long  march 
toward  the  enemy  somewhere  in  the  wilderness  of  the  North- 
west. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  new  year  the  Kentucky  Volun- 
teers, particularly  the  companies  from  the  Bluegrass,  were 
heavily  engaged  against  motley  hordes  of  savages  and  British 
regulars.  The  months  that  passed  were  full  of  anxiety  and 
suspense  for  the  women  back  home,  though  they  kept  busy 
with  spinning  wheel  and  knitting  needle,  making  supplies  for 
the  troops  at  the  front.  "Warm  linsey  clothes,  socks,  blankets, 
linen  shirts,  and  shoes  will  enable  our  brave  militia  who  have 
marched  away,  to  think  only  of  the  enemy,  of  battle,  of  revenge, 
and  of  victory,"  wrote  one  of  them,  "and  with  these  the  women 


10  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

of  Kentucky,  like  those  of  Sparta,  will  be  charming  in  the  eyes 
of  their  countrymen  and  terrible  to  their  enemies."15 

On  February  9,  1813,  the  Gazette  announced  in  leaded  col- 
umns the  ambush  and  terrible  butchery  at  the  River  Raisin, 
where  the  finest  sons  of  the  Bluegrass  had  fallen  by  the  score. 
Captain  Nathaniel  Hart,  wounded  and  captured,  had  been 
scalped  and  murdered  by  a  drunken  Indian.  Scarcely  a  home 
had  escaped  bereavement,  and  though  inured  to  peril  and 
bloodshed,  the  town  was  plunged  into  the  deepest  gloom  and 
sorrow.  Grief,  however,  soon  gave  way  to  indignation  and  a 
burning  desire  to  avenge  the  massacre.  Marching  feet  again 
trod  the  muster  ground  to  the  stirring  accompaniment  of  fife 
and  drum,  and  campfires  blazed  in  every  direction.  The  ven- 
erable Isaac  Shelby,  first  governor  of  the  commonwealth,  who 
had  again  been  called  to  the  executive  chair,  announced  that 
he  would  lead  the  recently  organized  battalions,  and  the  news 
that  the  old  Revolutionary  hero  of  Kings  Mountain  was  once 
more  in  the  saddle  caused  widespread  enthusiasm. 

All  during  the  following  spring  and  summer  the  Kentuck- 
ians  stalked  their  ancient  enemies  through  the  tangled  under- 
brush of  a  strange  country,  forcing  the  British  and  their  savage 
allies  slowly  northward.  Resistance,  however,  was  stubborn 
and  there  were  bloody  checks  now  and  then.  The  disaster  at 
Fort  Meigs  left  many  vacant  chairs  around  the  firesides  of  Lex- 
ington. But  finally  there  came  a  bright  sunny  day  in  October 
when  the  postrider  halted  his  foam-flecked  pony  at  Wilson's 
Tavern  with  thrilling  news  and  with  ' 'Victory"  printed  in  big 
letters  on  his  hat.16 

General  Harrison  had  met  a  small  force  of  British  regulars 
under  General  Henry  A.  Proctor  and  about  twelve  hundred 
Indians  commanded  by  their  famous  chief  Tecumseh  near  the 
Thames  River.  At  a  critical  stage  of  the  contest  Colonel  Rich- 
ard M.  Johnson  led  his  mounted  Kentuckians  in  a  wild  charge 
under  a  galling  fire  against  the  British  flank,  and  then  dis- 
mounting, his  force  engaged  the  Indians  in  a  terrific  hand-to- 
hand  encounter.    This  time  the  blood-curdling  war  whoops 


Transylvania  University  in  the 
1820's.  From  an  old  print  owned 
by   Transylvania  College 


Title  page  of  The  Kentucky 
Preceptor  that  Lincoln  studied 
From  the  original  in  the  F.  M. 
heboid  Collection 


KENTUCKY  PRECEPTOR. 

CONTAINING 

A  NUMBER  Or  USEFUL  LESSONS 

FOR  READING  AND  SPEAKING. 

COMPILED   FOP.  T!IE  ISE   OF  SCHOOLS. 

P»Y   A   TEACHER. 


ncliRlilful  task  !  10  rear  the  tender  thought, 
To  u  m  h  the  toiing  iftoa  how  to  shoot, 
To  pour  the  fresh  mstruriloii  o'er  tin-  mind, 
To  breathe  the  <  nl:vening  spirit,  ami  tn  fix 
Tile  generous  purpose  in  the  globing  breast. 

TaosirsoS' 


Una    KPITIOV,    DEVISED,    WITH     C0NSIDERAI1LE    ADDlTIO.Vf 


COFT-IUGHT  SECUKID  ilCOM 


I-KXINGTO.V,  (Ki.) 
PI'BLISliLD  BY   MACCOIX,  TILFORD  &  f«. 


<y 


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**  /h+*  *&//  ,•»-*»-  *>.**&  0-*«*/  +*/~  £+>**? 


Thomas  Lincoln  testifies  how  his  brother  spelled  his  name 


ATHENS  OF  THE  WEST  11 

were  lost  in  frenzied  shouts  of  "Remember  the  Raisin."  Colonel 
Johnson,  with  five  bullets  in  his  body,  his  white  horse  smeared 
with  gore  from  fifteen  wounds,  had  slain  the  great  Tecumseh 
with  a  bullet  from  his  long,  silver-mounted  pistol!  Most  of 
the  British  and  many  Indians  had  surrendered,  and  the  terror- 
stricken  survivors  fled  in  great  disorder.17 

The  enthusiasm  and  rejoicing  in  Lexington  at  the  news  of 
this  victory  were  boundless,  and  while  cannon  roared,  the  town 
was  illuminated  and  plans  were  made  for  a  banquet  for  Gov- 
ernor Shelby,  Colonel  Johnson,  and  other  heroes  of  the  battle. 
American  soil  was  now  free  from  British  occupation  in  the 
Northwest,  and  a  year  later,  hostilities  were  over. 

At  the  close  of  the  war  with  England,  Lexington  settled 
down  for  a  long  era  of  peace  and  cultural  development.18  A 
traveler  in  1816  was  thus  deeply  impressed  by  the  town  and 
its  inhabitants: 

The  beautiful  vale  of  Town  Fork,  which  in  1797,  I  saw  varie- 
gated with  corn  fields,  meadows,  and  trees  [said  Judge  Brown], 
had  in  my  absence  been  covered  with  stately  and  elegant  build- 
ings—in short,  a  large  and  beautiful  town  had  arisen  by  the  creative 
genius  of  the  West.  The  log  cabins  had  disappeared,  and  in  their 
places  stood  costly  brick  mansions,  well  painted  and  enclosed  by 
fine  yards,  bespeaking  the  taste  and  wealth  of  their  possessors.  The 
leathern  pantaloons,  the  hunting-shirts  and  leggings  had  been  dis- 
carded, for  the  dress  and  manners  of  the  inhabitants  had  entirely 
changed. 

The  scenery  around  Lexington  almost  equals  that  of  the  Elysium 
of  the  Ancients.  Philadelphia,  with  all  its  surrounding  beauties, 
scarcely  equals  it.  The  surface  resembles  the  gentle  swell  of  the 
ocean,  when  the  agitations  of  a  storm  have  nearly  subsided.  The 
roads  are  very  fine  and  wide.  The  grazing  parks  have  a  peculiar 
neatness;  the  charming  groves,  the  small,  square  and  beautiful 
meadows,  and  above  all,  the  wide  spreading  forests  of  corn  waving 
in  grandeur  and  luxuriance  and  perfuming  the  air  with  its  fra- 
grance, combine  to  render  a  summer's  view  of  Lexington  inex- 
pressibly rich,  novel,  grand  and  picturesque. 

The  site  of  the  town  is  in  a  valley,  but  the  declivities  are  so 


12  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

gentle  that  some  travelers,  not  scrupulously  accurate,  have  described 
it  as  a  plain.  Town  Fork  Creek  waters  the  central  parts  of  the 
town.  .  .  .  Main  Street  presents  to  the  traveler  as  much  wealth  and 
more  beauty  than  can  be  found  in  most  of  the  Atlantic  cities.  It  is 
about  eighty  feet  wide,  level,  compactly  built,  well  paved  and  having 
foot  ways  twelve  feet  wide  on  each  side.  .  .  . 

There  are  two  bookstores,  and  three  printing  offices,  from  which 
are  issued  as  many  weekly  papers,  viz:  the  Reporter  and  Kentucky 
Gazette,  both  Republican,  and  the  Monitor,  Federal,  and  the  only 
one  of  that  political  caste  in  the  State.  The  inhabitants  are  as 
polished,  and  I  regret  to  add  as  luxurious  as  those  of  Boston,  New 
York  and  Baltimore,  and  their  assemblies  are  conducted  with  as 
much  ease  and  grace,  as  in  the  oldest  towns  of  the  Union.19 

The  early  twenties  of  the  nineteenth  century  found  Lex- 
ington a  thriving  place,  noted  far  and  wide  for  its  culture  and 
its  educational  institutions,  and  exceedingly  proud  of  its  dis- 
tinguished citizens  who  had  won  fame  in  arts,  science,  and 
politics.20 

Set  in  a  grove  of  large  forest  trees,  Transylvania  University 
occupied  a  spacious,  three-storied,  brick  building  containing 
thirty  rooms  and  surmounted  by  a  tall,  ornate  cupola.  In  a 
short  time  the  first  institution  of  higher  learning  in  the  West 
had  become  widely  known  for  its  able  and  learned  faculty, 
and  the  scope  and  thoroughness  of  its  courses  of  instruction. 
The  reputation  of  the  university  at  this  period  can  perhaps  be 
indicated  by  comparison  of  its  enrollment  with  schools  of  rec- 
ognized study  in  the  East.  In  March,  1821,  Yale  College  had 
but  thirty-seven  more  students  than  Transylvania;  Harvard 
exceeded  her  by  only  four;  while  Union,  Dartmouth,  and 
Princeton  were  considerably  outnumbered.21 

No  traveler  stopped  overnight  at  Wilson's  Tavern  without 
hearing  much  of  the  personal  history  of  Dr.  Constantine  Rafin- 
esque,  the  early  French- American  naturalist  and  botanist;  Mat- 
thew H.  Jouett,  artist  and  pupil  of  the  celebrated  Gilbert 
Stuart;  Dr.  Horace  Holley,  the  gifted  educator,  president  of 
Transylvania  University;  Gideon  Shryock,  the  architect;  John 
Breckinridge,  attorney  general  in  the  cabinet  of  Thomas  Jef- 


ATHENS  OF  THE  WEST  13 

ferson;  and  Henry  Clay,  speaker  of  the  national  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives, idol  of  the  Whig  party,  and  candidate  for  President 
of  the  United  States.  And  among  the  younger  generation  there 
were  those  who  would  also  write  their  names  into  the  pages 
of  the  nation's  history— some  of  whom  fate  had  marked  for 
tragic  roles. 

Down  on  West  Short  Street  a  bright,  vivacious  little  girl 
with  a  temperament  like  an  April  day  romped  with  her  broth- 
ers and  sisters  about  the  ample  grounds  of  her  father's  com- 
fortable home.  Her  grandfather  had  been  one  of  the  party  of 
hunters  who  gave  the  town  its  name  that  night  in  June  nearly 
a  half-century  before.  In  her  veins  ran  the  blood  of  a  long 
line  of  sturdy  Americans,  noted  for  their  courage,  character, 
and  high  achievements. 

Frequently  her  playmate  was  a  small  lad  in  his  first  trousers, 
with  black  hair,  twinkling  gray  eyes,  and  a  firm,  resolute  chin. 
John  C.  Breckinridge  would  some  day  be  Vice-President  of  the 
United  States,  a  candidate  for  President  against  the  girl's  hus- 
band, and  would  go  down,  at  the  zenith  of  his  fame,  with  the 
wreck  of  a  lost  cause.  Two  blocks  away,  a  slender,  fair-haired 
youth  attended  Transylvania.  He  would  come  to  know  these 
two  children  very  well  indeed  as  the  years  went  by.  Though 
a  lad  in  his  sixteenth  year,  he  had  been  elected  by  his  class  to 
a  high  place  of  honor  in  the  closing  exercises  of  the  college 
year.  On  commencement  day  those  who  looked  at  the  program 
saw  that  the  name  of  the  young  man  who  had  just  delivered 
the  oration  entitled  "Friendship"  was  Jefferson  Davis  of  Mis- 
sissippi.22 

The  following  year  Washington's  birthday  was  celebrated 
at  the  Episcopal  church  with  orations  by  Robert  J.  Breckinridge 
of  the  Whig  Society  and  by  Gustavius  A.  Henry  of  the  Union 
Philosophical  Society.  In  the  evening,  said  the  Kentucky  Re- 
porter, "a  large  party  of  gentlemen  attached  to  the  Philosophi- 
cal Society  dined  at  Giron's  where  sumptuous  and  elegant 
repasts  were  served  and  toasts  were  drunk  with  the  applause 


14  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

of  the  company."  President  Horace  Holley  and  other  members 
of  the  Transylvania  faculty  proposed  several  of  the  thirty-six 
toasts,  among  them  being:  "To  the  health  and  prosperity  of 
Jefferson  Davis,  late  a  student  of  Transylvania  University,  now 
a  Cadet  at  West  Point— May  he  become  the  pride  of  our  Coun- 
try and  the  idol  of  our  Army."23 

The  educational  advantages  of  Lexington,  however,  were 
not  confined  to  those  enrolled  in  her  local  institutions.  Over 
in  the  backwoods  of  Indiana  a  tall,  gangling,  awkward  youth 
in  a  linsey-woolsey  shirt  and  outgrown  buckskin  breeches  that 
exposed  his  sharp  blue  shinbones  pored  over  a  small  volume 
bound  in  gray  boards  and  entitled  the  Kentucky  Preceptor.2* 
This  little  book  which  contained,  as  stated  in  its  preface,  "the 
most  fascinating  and  instructive  historical  accounts,  dialogues 
and  orations,  with  the  different  kinds  of  reading  in  prose  and 
verse"  had  been  carefully  "compiled  for  the  use  of  schools" 
and  published  at  Lexington  by  Maccoun,  Tilford  and  Com- 
pany. "The  great  importance  of  having  proper  books  put  in 
the  hands  of  the  rising  generation,  at  an  early  period  of  life," 
continued  the  preface,  "must  be  sufficiently  evident  to  every 
reflecting  mind.  It  is  from  these  that  the  mind  receives,  in  the 
most  of  cases,  its  first  and  most  lasting  impressions." 

Young  Abraham  Lincoln  had  obtained  this  book  from  Jo- 
siah  Crawford,  a  tightfisted  neighbor  whom  the  boys  derisively 
called  "Old  Blue  Nose."  A  short  time  before  he  had  borrowed 
Parson  Weems'  Life  of  Washington,  which  had  been  soaked 
by  rain  that  blew  through  cracks  in  the  Lincoln  cabin.  Abe 
had  "pulled  fodder"  three  days  in  payment  for  that  damaged 
volume,  and  now  he  took  special  care  that  nothing  should 
happen  to  the  Kentucky  Preceptor.  Having  learned  to  read, 
write,  and  "cipher  to  the  Rule  of  Three,"  Lincoln's  school  days 
were  over,  but  the  choice  literature  between  the  covers  of  the 
Lexington  compilation  was  an  education  in  itself,  and  the 
backwoods  boy  absorbed  it  eagerly.  Returning  to  the  cabin 
after  a  hard  day  in  the  fields,  he  would  "snatch  a  piece  of  corn- 


ATHENS  OF  THE  WEST  15 

pone  from  the  cupboard,  sit  down  in  a  corner,  cock  his  long 
legs  up  as  high  as  his  head  and  lose  himself  in  the  Kentucky 
Preceptor."25 

"Disguise  thyself  as  thou  wilt,  still  slavery!"  began  an  essay 
on  "Liberty."  "Still  thou  art  a  bitter  draught,  and  though 
thousands  in  all  ages  have  been  made  to  drink  of  thee,  thou  art 
no  less  bitter  on  that  account."  Another  article,  entitled  "The 
Desperate  Negro,"  told  the  pathetic  story  of  a  faithful  slave 
who  cut  his  own  throat  to  escape  a  flogging  at  the  hands  of  his 
master.  The  Preceptor  also  related  how  Demosthenes  overcame 
his  defects  of  speech  by  "putting  pebble  stones  into  his  mouth" 
and  speaking  to  the  waves  along  the  seashore;  it  quoted  the 
burning  words  of  Robert  Emmet,  the  Irish  patriot,  as  he  stood 
condemned  to  death  for  treason,  the  inaugural  address  of 
Thomas  Jefferson,  and  the  exquisite  lines  of  Elegy  Written  in 
a  Country  Churchyard. 

But  even  as  Lincoln  practiced  the  elocution  lessons  of  the 
Preceptor  from  the  stumps  of  Indiana  clearings,  the  golden 
age  of  Lexington  was  swiftly  drawing  to  a  close.  The  churning 
wheels  of  a  new  invention,  the  steamboat,  had  diverted  the 
current  of  trade  to  the  river  towns  of  Cincinnati  and  Louisville, 
toppling  the  inland  metropolis  from  her  pedestal  of  commercial 
supremacy.  Yet  the  capital  of  the  Bluegrass  with  her  elegant 
homes,  churches,  seminaries,  artists,  and  statesmen,  "pervaded 
by  an  air  of  ease  and  politeness  in  the  social  intercourse  of  the 
inhabitants  which  evinced  the  cultivation  of  taste  and  good 
feeling,"  would  serenely  maintain  for  many  a  day  unchallenged 
title  to  the  proud  sobriquet:    "Athens  of  the  West."26 


TWO 


The  Lincolns  of 
Fayette 


iN  1782  Abraham  Lincoln,  eldest  son  of  "Virginia"  John 
Lincoln,  left  the  old  plantation  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley  to 
find  a  new  home  in  the  Western  Country.  With  his  wife  and 
children,  household  goods  and  flintlock  rifle,  he  followed  the 
blood-stained  Wilderness  Road  over  the  rugged  Cumberlands 
into  the  rolling,  fertile  lowlands  of  Kentucky.  Four  years  later, 
wrapped  in  deerskins  with  a  lead  slug  in  his  back,  the  pioneer 
was  laid  away  in  a  rude  grave  on  the  slope  of  a  little  hill  near 
Hughes'  Station  in  Jefferson  County.1 

On  September  23,  1782,  Abraham's  youngest  brother 
Thomas  married  Elizabeth  Casner  and  brought  his  wife  to  the 
paternal  roof  on  Linville  Creek.  Following  the  death  of  "Vir- 
ginia" John,  Thomas  conveyed  his  interest  in  his  father's  estate 
to  his  brother  Jacob  for  the  sum  of  560  pounds,  giving  100 
pounds  of  the  purchase  money  to  his  mother,  Rebecca  Lincoln.2 
Then  he  too  gathered  up  his  family  and  set  out  over  the  same 
road  that  his  favorite  brother  had  traveled  nine  years  before.3 

It  is  quite  probable  that  Thomas  Lincoln  had  been  greatly 
impressed  by  the  glowing  descriptions  of  "Kaintuckee"   that 


THE  LINCOLNS  OF  FAYETTE  17 

Abraham  had  sent  back  home.  At  any  rate,  on  November  14, 
1792,  he  purchased  from  Lewis  Craig  290  acres  in  Fayette 
County  on  the  waters  of  the  south  fork  of  Elkhorn  Creek  in 
consideration  of  400  pounds  cash.4 

Thomas  Lincoln  chose  his  new  home  with  discriminating 
judgment.  He  did  not  locate  in  Jefferson  County,  as  had  Abra- 
ham, nor  in  Washington  County,  where  his  brother's  widow 
Bathsheba  and  his  nephews,  Mordecai,  Josiah,  and  his  name- 
sake Thomas,  then  were  living.  These  counties  had  thinner 
soil  and  a  far  less  attractive  topography  than  the  Bluegrass 
region.  The  Lewis  Craig  farm  was  situated  in  one  of  the  richest 
and  most  inviting  spots  in  all  Kentucky,  just  five  miles  from 
the  town  of  Lexington. 

During  the  next  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  Thomas  Lincoln 
became  one  of  the  most  prosperous  men  in  the  South  Elkhorn 
neighborhood.  He  owned  slaves,5  and  with  this  labor  under 
the  management  of  his  older  sons6  he  kept  the  farm  in  a  high 
state  of  cultivation,  raising  corn,  tobacco,  hemp,  and  many  hogs 
which  he  slaughtered  and  dressed  for  the  market.  Lincoln 
himself  seems  to  have  been  largely  occupied  in  the  operation 
of  a  flourishing  stillhouse  on  Elkhorn  Creek  near  a  fine  spring 
of  clear  limestone  water  where  he  manufactured  an  excellent 
brand  of  bourbon  whisky.7  He  also  had  money  to  lend,  and 
the  records  of  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court  between  1803  and 
1809  show  many  suits  filed  by  him  against  persons  who  had 
failed  to  pay  their  notes.8 

The  beginning  of  1809  presented  a  sharp  contrast  in  the 
fortunes  of  Thomas  Lincoln  of  Fayette  County  and  his  nephew 
Thomas  of  Hardin  County.  It  was  a  momentous  year  for  them 
both,  though  neither  knew  it  then.  The  younger  man  lived 
on  Nolin  Creek  with  his  little  family  in  a  rude  log  cabin  with 
a  dirt  floor  and  a  stick  chimney  daubed  with  clay.  The  thin 
sterile  soil  of  his  rough  hill  farm  yielded  hardly  more  than  the 
barest  necessities  of  life.  Yet  the  head  of  this  humble  house- 
hold was  at  peace  with  the  world.  Nancy  Hanks  was  a  good 
wife;  their  little  daughter  Sarah  was  two  years  old,  and  her 


18  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

presence  alone  made  the  bare  cabin  far  from  cheerless.  The 
Lincolns  were  expecting  another  child  in  a  few  weeks  and 
hoping  for  a  son. 

The  uncle,  however,  in  spite  of  his  Bluegrass  farm,  his 
comfortable  home,  his  slaves,  and  his  stillhouse,  was  an  un- 
happy man.  Clouds  were  gathering  rapidly  on  the  horizon  of 
Thomas  Lincoln's  domestic  life.  And  just  twenty-five  days 
before  the  "child  of  destiny"  arrived  at  the  Nolin  Creek  cabin, 
the  storm  broke  on  South  Elkhorn.  On  that  day  Lincoln  exe- 
cuted a  deed  of  trust  to  his  son-in-law,  John  O'Nan,  and  his 
wife  Elizabeth  which  recited  that  "divers  controversies  has 
arisen  between  Thomas  Lincoln  and  Elizabeth  in  so  much 
that  the  said  Elizabeth  hath  come  to  a  final  determination  to 
reside  with  her  husband  no  longer,"  and  he  conveyed  for  her 
benefit  his  livestock,  household  furniture,  and  other  personal 
property  including  "one  negro  man  named  Major,  one  negro 
girl  named  Charlotte  and  one  negro  boy  named  Moses;  one 
brown  horse  and  saddle  and  bridle  and  a  brindle  cow  that 
gives  milk."9  By  the  same  instrument  Elizabeth  "releases  the 
said  Thomas  Lincoln  from  any  further  support  in  as  full  and 
compleat  a  manner  as  she  is  authorized  by  law  to  do."10  At  the 
same  time,  Lincoln  deeded  his  farm  to  his  eight  children,  re- 
serving a  life  estate  to  himself.11 

But  before  the  summer  was  over,  the  family  troubles  seem 
to  have  been  adjusted.  On  August  15,  1809,  Lincoln  signed  a 
contract  with  his  wife,  who  was  then  living  in  Shelby  County 
with  her  daughter,  Margaret  O'Nan,  and  another  son-in-law, 
David  Rice,  which  provided  "that  said  Thomas  covenants  and 
agrees  with  said  Elizabeth  and  David  that  he  the  said  Thomas 
will  receive  the  said  Elizabeth  into  his  family  and  treat  her 
kindly  and  provide  for  her  and  the  children  and  in  case  he 
should  fail  to  treat  his  wife  Elizabeth  as  a  wife  ought  to  be 
treated,  said  Thomas  agrees  to  depart  from  the  family  estate 
or  farm  and  take  nothing  but  a  horse,  saddle  &  bridle  and  all 
his  clothes  leaving  the  rest  of  the  estate  to  his  wife  &  children 


THE  LINCOLNS  OF  FAYETTE  19 

and  never  to  return,  unless  by  consent  of  said  Elizabeth  and 
David  to  said  farm."12 

The  reconciliation,  however,  was  short-lived,  and  on  March 
31,  1810,  Lincoln  filed  a  suit  in  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court  to 
set  aside  the  deed  of  conveyance  which  he  had  made  to  his 
wife  and  children.  His  bill  of  complaint  contained  a  long 
recital  of  marital  woe.  He  said  that  by  " Forty  years  of  hard 
labour"  he  had  accumulated  an  estate  worth  several  thousand 
pounds  and  "until  his  mind  became  distracted  by  the  unhappy 
chain  of  differences  with  his  said  wife  few  men  laboured  harder 
&  lived  more  honestly  than  himself";  that  "he  loves  and  de- 
sires his  said  wife  &  with  truth  can  say  that  whatever  of  his 
conduct  towards  her  that  may  have  savoured  of  either  injustice 
or  cruelty  has  proceeded  either  from  a  deranged  mind  or  casual 
intemperance  &  intoxication,  and  while  he,  with  the  deepest 
contrition  and  remorse  laments  &  acknowledges  those  errors 
of  his  own  life,  it  has  been  the  misfortune  of  his  wife  to  have 
her  errors  also." 

He  alleged  further  that  the  deed  of  trust  was  obtained  from 
him  when  he  was  sick  and  that  the  "defts.  Elizabeth  and  Abra- 
ham tore  him  out  of  his  bed,  his  wife  demanded  the  deed  and 
actually  approached  to  strike  him  with  a  chair  &  was  about  to 
strike  him  when  plaintiff  repeled  the  blow  by  striking  her, 
when  the  said  defendant,  Abraham,  the  son,  ordered  plaintiff 
for  a  damned  old  rascal  to  strip  himself  &  in  the  most  beastly 
and  barbarous  manner  beat  plaintiff  until  he  was  satisfied." 
He  also  averred  that  his  son-in-law,  Rice,  had  converted  to  his 
own  use  "about  20  barrels  of  plaintiff's  pork  &  that  the  deft. 
Abraham  has  taken  and  converted  to  his  own  use  between 
400  &  500  gallons  of  whisky."13 

The  answers  of  Elizabeth  Lincoln,  her  son  Abraham,  and 
her  sons-in-law,  David  Rice  and  John  O'Nan,  were  filed  in 
Fayette  Circuit  Court  on  September  18,  1810. 

Defts.  say  that  they  deny  that  part  of  the  bill  which  charges 
said  settlement  deeds  to  have  been  done  through  the  machinations 


20  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

of  any  one,  and  that  the  truth  really  is  and  was  that  these  settle- 
ment deeds  resulted  from  a  most  infamous  and  fraudulent  project 
of  the  plaintiff  to  get  clear  of  his  wife— to  be  divorced  with  a  view 
to  getting  married  again  to  a  young  woman.  To  which  end  he 
applied  to  the  Assembly  without  delay  and  as  soon  as  he  failed 
there  he  became  excessively  embarrassed  to  make  up  the  difference 
again  with  his  wife.  .  .  .  Thereupon  the  said  Elizabeth  came  back 
and  agreed  to  live  with  plff  which  she  hath  ever  since  done  as  a 
good  and  true  wife,  but  the  plff  hath  never  since  that  period  at- 
tended to  anything  about  his  house  or  place,  and  hath  been  very 
abusive  to  the  deft,  Elizabeth,  &  has  twice  kicked  her  with  his 
feet  8c  once  thrown  a  chair  at  her  &  gives  her  very  repeatedly  the 
most  abusive  language.  .  .  .  Deft.  Abraham,  saith  that  it  is  wholly 
untrue  that  he  did  the  violence  to  the  plff  which  he  states  but  the 
true  reason  of  the  plff's  violence  toward  him  is  his  defense  of  his 
mother's  person  &  property  from  the  plaintiff's  hand,  who  desires 
it  to  dissipate  away  to  the  impoverishment  of  his  wife  and  children. 

On  Thursday  morning,  December  13,  1810,  the  litigants 
met  in  the  low-beamed  parlor  of  John  Keiser's  Indian  Queen 
Tavern  in  Lexington  to  take  the  depositions  of  witnesses  for 
the  defendants.  At  one  end  of  the  long  pine  table  brought 
in  from  the  taproom  sat  Thomas  Lincoln  with  his  attorney, 
Robert  Wickliffe,  one  of  the  ablest  land  lawyers  in  the  West, 
whose  lofty  stature  and  courtly  manners  made  him  widely 
known  in  later  years  as  the  "Old  Duke." 

At  the  other  end  of  the  table  sat  Elizabeth  Lincoln,  her  son 
Abraham,  and  her  sons-in-law,  John  O'Nan  and  David  Rice. 
They  also  were  represented  by  distinguished  counsel,  Colonel 
Joseph  Hamilton  Daviess,  noted  Indian  fighter,  prosecutor  of 
Aaron  Burr,  the  first  western  lawyer  to  appear  before  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  the  United  States,  and  the  brother-in-law  of 
Chief  Justice  John  Marshall.  Between  the  parties,  near  the 
center  of  the  table,  sat  the  presiding  justices,  William  Worley 
and  John  Bradford,  editor  and  publisher  of  the  Kentucky  Ga- 
zette. Across  from  them  stood  a  high-backed  hickory  chair  with 
a  cornhusk  bottom  for  the  witnesses. 

The  first  witness  introduced  for  the  defendants  was  Peter 


THE  LINCOLNS  OF  FAYETTE  21 

Warfield.  He  was  a  tenant,  he  said,  on  Lincoln's  farm  and  lived 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  his  house.  From  his  personal  ob- 
servation the  complainant's  recent  conduct  toward  his  wife  had 
not  been  "that  of  a  kind  and  affectionate  husband." 

Colonel  Daviess:  Is  the  complainant  the  aggressor  when  dis- 
putes have  arisen  between  himself  and  wife? 

Witness:    Most  generally  he  is. 

Colonel  Daviess:  During  last  winter,  while  the  wife  of  the 
complainant  was  preparing  to  commence  distilling,  did  not  the 
complainant  secret  the  caps  &  cocks  of  the  still  for  the  purpose  of 
preventing  her  doing  so? 

Witness:  It  is  my  opinion  that  he  did  hide  them,  as  he  very 
readily  found  them  when  he  wished  to  do  so. 

Mr.  Wickliffe:  Is  not  Mrs.  Lincoln  in  the  habit  of  frequent 
intoxication? 

Witness:  I  have  frequently  seen  her  in  that  state  since  I  became 
a  tenant  of  her  husband. 

Mr.  Wickliffe:  Have  you  not  heard  the  complainant's  wife 
make  use  of  very  gross  vulgar  language  to  the  complainant  during 
their  quarrels? 

Witness:    I  have.14 

Colonel  Daviess:  Is  it  not  generally  believed  in  the  neighbor- 
hood that  Mrs.  Lincoln's  intemperance  proceeded  from  the  bad 
conduct  of  her  husband? 

Witness:    I  believe  it  is.15 

A  youth  by  the  name  of  James  Fleming  was  next  called  by 
the  defendants,  and  after  being  sworn,  stated  that  "in  the 
month  of  May  or  June,  1809,  this  deponent  was  harrowing  corn 
for  the  complainant,  when  he  asked  this  deponent  if  he  pre- 
pared poison  for  his  wife  whether  he  would  give  it  to  her  and 
said  that  if  he  would,  he  would  give  him  the  best  horse  on  his 
farm,  which  proposition  this  deponent  rejected." 

Mr.  Wickliffe:  How  long  has  it  been  since  you  first  mentioned 
this  circumstance? 

Witness:    About  six  months  ago. 

Mr.  Wickliffe:  Was  there  any  previous  conversation  which  led 
to  this  proposition? 


22  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Witness:    There  was  not. 

Colonel  Daviess:  Was  the  complainant  in  a  state  of  intoxica- 
tion when  he  made  you  this  proposition? 

Witness:    No,  he  appeared  perfectly  sober.16 

Further  interrogation  showed  that  young  Fleming  was  liv- 
ing at  Peter  Warfield's  house,  and  it  was  insinuated  by  Lincoln's 
counsel  that  Warfield  had  influenced  the  boy's  testimony. 

It  is  evident  from  the  papers  in  the  case  that  the  tenant, 
Peter  Warfield,  was  one  of  the  "evilly  disposed  persons"  re- 
ferred to  in  Lincoln's  bill  of  complaint,  and  that  he  held  War- 
field  responsible  for  the  circulation  of  the  story  that  he  had 
attempted  to  bribe  the  Fleming  boy  to  poison  Mrs.  Lincoln. 
Thomas  Lincoln  was  no  longer  a  young  man,  and  doubtless 
his  once  robust  physique  was  somewhat  shattered  by  dissipation, 
but  like  all  the  Lincolns  he  did  not  lack  personal  courage,  nor 
was  he  averse  to  a  fight  when  aroused.  The  testimony  taken 
that  morning  in  the  parlor  of  the  Indian  Queen  must  have 
enraged  him  intensely,  for  when  the  taking  of  the  depositions 
had  been  adjourned,  he  promptly  laid  violent  hands  upon  the 
luckless  Peter  and  gave  him  a  most  terrific  thrashing. 

The  office  of  the  high  sheriff  was  only  three  blocks  away 
and  the  town  watchhouse  even  closer,  but  Warfield  did  not 
have  his  assailant  arrested.  On  the  contrary,  he  went  home  and, 
having  sufficiently  recovered,  came  to  town  next  morning  and 
filed  suit  against  Lincoln  for  assault  and  battery,  alleging  in 
his  petition  that  on  the  previous  day  Thomas  Lincoln  did 
"with  fists  and  feet  commit  an  assault  upon  the  said  plaintiff 
&  him,  the  said  plff,  then  &  there  did  beat,  wound  &  evily  treat 
so  that  his  life  was  despaired  of  greatly."17 

The  litigation  between  the  Lincolns  dragged  along  until 
June  13,  1811,  when  an  order  was  entered  which  recited  that 
"The  parties  having  agreed,  it  is  ordered  that  this  suit  be  dis- 
missed."18 Evidently  the  termination  of  the  suit  was  hastened 
by  the  fact  that  Colonel  Daviess,  counsel  for  defendants,  was 
leaving  that  day  with  his  regiment  to  join  General  Harrison 
in  his  campaign  against  the  Indians  on  the  Wabash. 


THE  LINCOLNS  OF  FAYETTE  23 

The  record  is  silent  as  to  the  terms  of  the  settlement,  but 
there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  the  case  did  not  end  favor- 
ably to  Thomas  Lincoln.  Certainly  he  never  regained  his  for- 
mer prosperity  or  much,  if  any,  of  his  property.  On  the 
contrary,  he  seems  to  have  gone  steadily  down  to  utter  insol- 
vency, and  perhaps  poverty,  during  the  years  that  followed.19 

Only  once  more  before  his  death  did  the  name  of  Thomas 
Lincoln  appear  in  the  public  records.  Nearly  a  year  after  the 
end  of  the  Fayette  County  litigation  in  which  he  was  so  disas- 
trously involved,  Thomas  was  called  as  a  witness  on  May  19, 
1812,  to  identify  the  signature  of  his  deceased  brother,  Captain 
Abraham  Lincoln. 

Mordecai  Lincoln,  the  captain's  son,  had  brought  a  suit  in 
the  Nelson  Circuit  Court  against  Benjamin  Grayson,  guardian 
for  the  heirs  of  John  Reed,  alleging  that  Abraham  Lincoln  in 
the  year  1783  had  procured  a  warrant  for  2,268  acres  of  land 
"at  the  lower  end  of  the  first  Narrows  below  the  first  Buffalo 
crossing  above  the  mouth  of  Bear  Creek"  and  running  down 
to  Green  River;  that  it  was  agreed  between  Lincoln  and  Reed 
that  the  latter  should  receive  half  the  land  for  locating  and 
surveying  it,  but  that  Reed  had  forged  Lincoln's  name  to  the 
assignment— spelling  it,  however,  "Linkhorn"— and  had  then 
"fraudulently  claimed  all  of  it  as  his  own." 

During  the  taking  of  his  deposition  at  the  statehouse  in 
Frankfort,  Thomas  Lincoln  was  asked  by  Mordecai:  "Do  you 
know  how  my  father  Abraham  Lincoln  spelt  his  name?"  To 
which  the  witness  replied:    "He  spelt  it  Abraham  Lincoln." 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  Abraham  Lincoln's  handwriting?" 
asked  Mordecai. 

"I  am,"  replied  Thomas,  "having  lived  near  him  and  seeing 
his  writing  often."  The  witness  was  then  shown  the  questioned 
signature  on  the  Reed  document,  and  he  emphatically  declared 
it  to  be  a  forgery.20 

Peter  Warfield  did  not  press  his  action  for  assault  and  bat- 
tery, and  having  found  a  more  peaceful  place  of  abode  beyond 
the  pale  of  Thomas  Lincoln's  wrath  and  the  jurisdiction  of  the 


24  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

court,  he  let  the  case  be  dismissed.21  "I  had  a  very  teageous 
journey,"  writes  Warfield  from  St.  Genevieve,  Louisiana,  "I 
was  six  weaks  on  the  road  but  feal  myself  purfectly  satisfyde 
with  the  cuntry."22 

Thus,  the  dust-stained  archives  of  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court 
through  a  tragic,  long-forgotten  litigation  reveal  glimpses  of 
Thomas  Lincoln  more  intimate  and  personal  than  has  ever 
been  known  of  any  other  Lincoln  except  the  President  himself. 
But  the  cause  of  the  trouble  which  brought  ruin  to  the  once 
happy  household  on  South  Elkhorn  will  remain  unknown. 
Whether  Thomas  Lincoln  finally  succumbed  to  the  nagging 
of  a  shrewish  spouse,  or  fell  an  unwilling  victim  to  the  wiles 
of  some  rural  vampire,  or  deliberately  in  his  old  age  wandered 
away  from  the  domestic  rooftree  in  search  of  adventure,  cannot 
now  be  ascertained.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  mutual  indul- 
gence to  excess  in  the  mellow  juice  of  Kentucky  corn  was  a 
vital  factor  in  the  marital  unhappiness  of  Thomas  and  Eliza- 
beth Lincoln. 

The  exact  date  of  Thomas  Lincoln's  death  is  uncertain, 
though  it  occurred  sometime  during  1820.  He  was  living  on 
January  21  when  Harbin  Moore  wrote  his  attorney  and  com- 
plained of  "old  Lincoln  keeping  himself  concealed  for  eighteen 
months."23  But  on  December  11  commissioners  were  appointed 
to  divide  among  his  children  the  land  conveyed  by  the  deed 
of  trust,  and  the  order  recited  that  Thomas  Lincoln  was  de- 
ceased.24 

In  a  few  years  the  Lincolns  disappeared  from  Fayette  Coun- 
ty, and  the  court  records  indicate  the  removal  of  some  of  them 
to  Missouri.  Wherever  they  went,  they  now  sank  out  of  sight 
like  all  the  rest  of  Abraham  Lincoln's  collateral  relatives,  never 
to  make  themselves  known  to  their  great  kinsman  in  the  tragic 
years  of  his  fame.25 


THREE 


The  Early 
Todds 


AMONG  the  party  of  woodsmen  who  founded  Lexington  was 
Levi  Todd,  a  stalwart  Pennsylvanian  just  recently  arrived  in 
Kentucky.1  He  and  his  two  older  brothers,  John  and  Robert, 
were  the  sons  of  David  Todd  of  Providence  Township,  Mont- 
gomery County,  Pennsylvania.  They  had  been  educated  in 
Virginia  at  the  school  of  their  uncle,  the  Reverend  John  Todd, 
who  later  obtained  from  the  state  legislature  the  charter  for 
Transylvania  Seminary  and  gave  it  the  first  library  brought  to 
Kentucky.2 

Levi,  John,  and  Robert  had  embarked  upon  the  study  of 
law,  but  dry  parchment  and  musty  tomes  were  not  for  them. 
Their  ancestors  were  stubborn,  restless  Scottish  Covenanters 
who  had  fiercely  opposed  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  at  Bothwell 
Bridge  and  in  defiance  of  the  Established  Church  of  England 
had  fled  their  native  heath  for  the  north  of  Ireland  and  thence 
to  America.  The  "Dark  and  Bloody  Ground,"  the  land  of 
adventure,  romance,  and  opportunity,  lay  beyond  the  hazy  Al- 
leghenies,  and  in  1775  the  three  Todd  brothers  bade  farewell 
to  the  Old  Dominion  and  journeyed  westward  over  the  toma- 
hawk-blazed Wilderness  Road. 


26  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

Levi  Todd  went  directly  to  Harrodsburg  but  soon  joined 
the  defenders  of  the  fort  at  St.  Asaph's  in  Lincoln  County. 
Here  he  married  Jane  Briggs  on  February  25,  1779.  Later  he 
founded  Todd's  Station  and  became  the  clerk  of  the  first  court 
held  in  the  Western  Country.3  In  1780  he  moved  to  Lexington, 
purchased  property  at  the  first  sale  of  town  lots,  and  was  ap- 
pointed the  first  clerk  of  the  Fayette  County  Court,  which 
office  he  held  until  his  death  many  years  later. 

Like  his  two  brothers,  Levi  Todd  took  an  active  part  in 
the  military  operations  of  the  pioneers.  He  was  a  lieutenant 
under  General  Clark  in  his  expedition  against  Kaskaskia  and 
Vincennes,  and  participated  in  several  retaliatory  excursions 
against  the  Indians  in  the  Northwest  Territory.  In  the  thickest 
of  the  ill-fated  fight  at  Blue  Licks,  he  was  one  of  the  few  officers 
to  survive  the  battle.  Later  he  succeeded  Colonel  Daniel  Boone 
in  command  of  the  Kentucky  militia  with  the  rank  of  major 
general.4 

General  Todd  was  deeply  interested  in  every  enterprise  that 
went  to  the  development  of  Lexington  and  the  new  common- 
wealth, and  for  many  years  he  was  a  member  of  the  board  of 
trustees  of  Transylvania  University.5  "Ellerslie,"  his  elegant 
country  estate  situated  on  the  Richmond  Pike  just  beyond 
"Ashland,"  the  home  of  Henry  Clay,  was  one  of  the  show  places 
around  Lexington,  and  here  he  reared  a  family  of  eleven  chil- 
dren. 

Robert  Smith  Todd,  the  seventh  child,  was  born  February 
25,  1791.6  He  was  brought  up  from  the  time  he  could  read 
and  write  in  the  office  of  the  Fayette  County  clerk  and  entered 
Transylvania  at  the  early  age  of  fourteen.  According  to  Dr. 
James  Blythe,  the  president,  he  studied  "Mathematics,  Geog- 
raphy, Rhetoric,  Logic,  Natural  &  Moral  Philosophy,  Astron- 
omy, perfected  himself  in  the  Latin  language,  made  consider- 
able progress  in  the  Greek  &  history  &  conducted  himself  in  a 
becoming  &  praiseworthy  manner."7 

By  the  time  Robert  S.  Todd  left  college  he  was  nearly  six 
feet  in  height,  erect  and  graceful  in  manner,  with  brown  hair 
and  eyes  and  a  ruddy  complexion.    He  immediately  entered 


Fhomas  Lincoln's  stillhouse  near  Lexington 
^holograph  taken  by  the  author 


Ellkrslie,"  home  of  Levi  Todd,  as  it  looked  just  before  it  was  razed 


Robert  S.  Todd 
From  an  original  oil  portrait 

owned  by  the  author 


THE  EARLY   TODDS  27 

the  office  of  Thomas  Bodley,  clerk  of  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court, 
where,  said  Bodley,  he  "supported  a  fair  and  unblemished 
character,  remarkable  for  his  industry,  integrity  and  correct 
deportment."8  In  addition  to  his  clerical  duties  he  studied  law 
under  the  tutelage  of  George  M.  Bibb,  chief  justice  of  the  Ken- 
tucky Court  of  Appeals,  United  States  senator,  and  secretary 
of  the  treasury  under  President  Tyler,  and  on  September  28, 
1811,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.9 

It  is  possible  that  the  young  lawyer  hung  out  his  shingle 
for  a  brief  period  in  Lexington,  but  if  he  did,  there  is  no 
record  of  it.  In  any  event  he  kept  his  job  with  Bodley,  and 
he  had  good  reason  to  do  so.  He  was  more  than  absorbed  in 
wooing  seventeen-year-old  Eliza  Parker,  and  if  he  should  be 
so  fortunate  as  to  win  her,  he  must  save  enough  from  his  earn- 
ings in  the  clerk's  office  to  sustain  them  over  the  lean  years 
which  confronted  every  fledgling  barrister. 

The  Parkers  were  among  the  most  substantial  people  of 
the  town.  Major  Robert  Parker,  an  officer  in  the  Revolution 
and  first  cousin  of  Levi  Todd,  had  in  March,  1789,  married 
Elizabeth  R.  Porter,  eldest  daughter  of  General  Andrew  Porter, 
a  friend  of  General  Washington  and  veteran  of  the  battles  of 
Trenton,  Princeton,  Brandywine,  and  Germantown.  Immedi- 
ately following  the  wedding  the  young  soldier  and  his  bride 
had  set  out  on  horseback  from  Pennsylvania  over  the  moun- 
tains to  Lexington,  where  they  arrived  in  May.10 

Major  Parker  was  the  first  surveyor  of  Fayette  County,  the 
clerk  of  the  first  board  of  trustees  of  Lexington,  and  according 
to  tradition  he  erected  the  first  brick  residence  in  the  town. 
When  on  March  4,  1800,  Major  Parker  died  at  his  country 
seat  in  Fayette  County,  the  Gazette  described  him  as  "an  early 
adventurer  to  Kentucky— of  extensive  acquaintance— and  uni- 
versally esteemed."11 

Under  the  terms  of  Major  Parker's  will  his  widow  and 
children  were  left  a  comfortable  fortune  consisting  of  town 
lots,  farmlands,  slaves,  and  personal  property.  The  whole  of 
the  estate  was  devised  to  Mrs.  Parker  during  her  life,  with 
only  one  injunction:    "It  is  my  sincere  will  and  desire,"  wrote 


28  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

the  testator  a  few  hours  before  his  death,  "that  all  my  children 
shall  be  carefully  brought  up  and  well  educated."12 

In  1811  the  Widow  Parker  lived  in  a  rather  imposing 
house  on  West  Short  Street,  and  her  children  attended  the 
best  schools  in  Kentucky.  Her  daughter  Eliza  was  sprightly 
and  attractive,  with  a  placid,  sunny  disposition,  a  sharp  con- 
trast to  her  impetuous,  high-strung  cousin,  Robert  S.  Todd. 

The  courtship  was  progressing  in  a  manner  highly  satis- 
factory to  all  concerned,  when  suddenly  there  came  the  rattle 
of  "musquetry"  and  the  booming  of  cannon  as  the  delighted 
inhabitants  of  Lexington  greeted  the  declaration  of  war  against 
Great  Britain.  The  thrill  of  combat  from  a  long  line  of  fighting 
ancestors  ran  through  the  veins  of  both  the  young  deputy  clerk 
and  his  sweetheart.  Although  barely  twenty-one,  Todd  was 
already  captain  of  a  local  company  of  raw  militiamen,  and  now 
he  eagerly  began  to  prepare  them  for  immediate  service.13 
However,  on  finding  that  the  quota  of  Nathaniel  Hart's  veteran 
organization  was  yet  unfilled,  Captain  Todd  promptly  dis- 
banded his  own  company  and  enlisted  with  his  men  in  the 
Lexington  Light  Infantry,  a  proud  military  outfit  that  dated 
back  to  the  time  of  "Mad  Anthony"  Wayne.14 

In  a  few  weeks  the  Fifth  Kentucky  Regiment  was  ready 
to  start  for  the  general  rendezvous  at  Georgetown,  and  on  that 
memorable  day  in  August,  1812,  as  the  "Old  Infantry,"  re- 
splendent in  "brilliant  uniforms  of  blue,  with  red  facings,  bell- 
buttons  and  jaunty  red  cockades  floating  from  their  black  hats," 
marched  down  Short  Street,  Eliza  Parker  waved  a  brave  good- 
by  to  Private  Todd  from  the  side  porch  of  her  mother's  house. 

From  Georgetown  the  Kentucky  troops  marched  rapidly 
northward  through  a  continual  downpour  of  rain,  and  as  the 
Old  Infantry  reached  Newport,  Robert  S.  Todd  was  stricken 
with  pneumonia.  For  several  weeks  he  lay  dangerously  ill  in 
a  rude  shack  on  the  low,  marshy  campground  along  the  Ohio 
River,  and  when  the  regiment  pushed  on,  Todd  was  left  be- 
hind under  the  care  of  his  brother  Samuel,  who  after  a  few 
weeks  brought  him  back  home  to  Lexington. 


THE  EARLY  TODDS  29 

Recuperating  quickly,  the  young  soldier  soon  began  to 
think  of  his  comrades  now  slowly  plodding  in  quest  of  the 
enemy  through  unbroken  forests  toward  the  Great  Lakes.  Every 
issue  of  the  Reporter  and  the  Gazette  contained  accounts  of 
their  hardships  and  adventures,  until  Todd,  now  fully  re- 
covered, found  that  he  could  no  longer  remain  at  home  while 
the  companions  of  his  boyhood  braved  the  perils  of  approach- 
ing winter  in  a  wilderness  infested  by  a  treacherous  foe.  Plucky 
Eliza  Parker  was  again  willing  that  he  should  go.  Moreover, 
she  was  willing  to  become  his  wife  before  he  went,  and  on 
November  26,  1812,  at  the  home  of  the  Widow  Parker,  Eliza 
was  married  to  Private  Robert  S.  Todd  of  the  Fifth  Regiment, 
Kentucky  Volunteers.15  On  the  following  day  the  young  hus- 
band kissed  his  bride  good-by  and  with  his  brother  Sam  rode 
off  to  join  their  comrades  of  the  Old  Infantry  encamped  in 
sleet  and  snow  at  the  rapids  of  the  Maumee. 

Crossing  swollen,  icebound  streams  and  struggling  through 
snowdrifts,  the  two  brothers  arrived  at  Fort  Defiance  just  in 
time  to  join  the  detachment  of  Kentucky  troops  commanded 
by  Colonel  Lewis  in  a  relief  expedition  against  Frenchtown 
on  the  River  Raisin,  and  they  were  in  the  thickest  of  that 
ghastly  encounter  with  Proctor  and  his  Indians.16  The  red 
and  blue  uniforms  of  Captain  Hart's  Lexington  boys  were 
conspicuous  targets  for  savage  rifles,  and  when  the  massacre 
was  over,  Captain  Hart  and  half  of  his  company  lay  dead  and 
tomahawked  in  the  snow.17  Sam  Todd  and  another  brother 
John  were  both  wounded  and  captured.18  John  ran  the  gaunt- 
let and  escaped,  but  Sam  was  adopted  into  a  tribe  and  remained 
captive  for  more  than  a  year  before  he  was  ransomed  for  a 
barrel  of  whisky. 

Robert  S.  Todd  went  through  the  horrible  experience  un- 
scathed. Before  the  year  of  1813  was  over,  he  returned  to  Lex- 
ington, where  he  and  his  young  wife  went  to  housekeeping  in 
a  comfortable  dwelling  which  he  erected  on  a  lot  belonging 
to  the  Parker  estate,  adjoining  his  mother-in-law  on  Short 
Street.19 


FOUR 


The  Little  Trader  from 
Hickman  Creek 


On  AN  early  autumn  day  in  1801  Samuel  Offutt  of  Fred- 
erick County,  Maryland,  drove  his  yoke  of  oxen,  hitched  to  a 
sturdy  wagon  with  solid  wooden  wheels,  over  the  Wilderness 
Road  into  the  Bluegrass  region  of  Kentucky.  With  him  were 
his  wife  Elizabeth,  his  sons,  Tilghman,  Otho,  Resin,  Samuel, 
and  Denton,  and  his  two  daughters,  Eleanor  and  Arah.  Two 
more  sons,  Azra  and  Zedekiah,  and  a  daughter,  Sarah,  would 
be  born  in  the  Western  Country.1 

The  Offutts  of  Frederick  and  Prince  George  counties,  Mary- 
land, had  been  people  of  means  and  prominence  since  early 
colonial  days.  Samuel's  great-great-grandfather,  William  Offutt, 
had  owned  large  plantations  in  Prince  George  County,  includ- 
ing "Clewerwell,"  "Neighborhood,"  "Gleaning,"  and  "Calver- 
ton  Ridge."  Before  leaving  Maryland,  Samuel  had  disposed  of 
a  considerable  estate  willed  him  by  his  father,  William  Offutt 
the  Third. 

Shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Kentucky,  Samuel  acquired  a 
large  tract  of  rolling,  fertile  land  eight  miles  southeast  of  Lex- 
ington on  the  waters  of  Hickman  Creek.  Here  he  erected  a 
comfortable  two-story  residence  of  hewn  logs  with  an  elaborate 


THE  LITTLE  TRADER  FROM  HICKMAN  CREEK  31 

hand-carved  double  front  doorway  of  wild  cherry.  The  house 
was  weatherboarded,  with  a  wide  wing  on  the  side  nearest  the 
creek  and  a  long  ell  in  the  rear. 

Samuel  furnished  his  new  home  with  many  heirlooms  which 
he  had  brought  with  him  over  the  Wilderness  Road  on  his 
several  trips  from  Maryland  to  Kentucky— four-posters,  a  tall 
mahogany  grandfather  clock,  Windsor  chairs,  tables,  chests,  cup- 
boards, mirrors,  sideboards,  gold-edged  chinaware,  coin  silver 
forks,  spoons  and  ladles,  an  elegant  tea  service,  Irish  linens, 
and  all  sorts  of  cooking  utensils.2 

For  many  generations  the  Offutt  family  had  been  breeders 
of  fine  horses,  and  it  was  not  long  before  Samuel  had  one  of 
the  best  stock  farms  in  the  Bluegrass.  In  addition  to  horses 
he  raised  mules,  sheep,  cattle,  and  hogs,  sending  large  cargoes 
of  livestock  each  year  down  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  to  Natchez 
and  New  Orleans.  He  owned  slaves  and  occasionally  hired  out 
his  surplus  labor,  but  there  is  no  record  of  any  sale  of  his 
Negroes.3  He  also  had  money  to  loan,  and  if  debtors  who 
could  pay  refused  to  do  so,  he  sued  them  with  an  alacrity 
which  induced  one  hapless  defendant  to  denounce  him,  but 
without  avail,  as  "a  gripping,  mercenary  character."4 

Offutt  was  a  man  whose  education  was  above  the  average 
in  central  Kentucky.  He  wrote  a  good  hand,  kept  his  accounts 
neatly,  figured  accurately.  A  firm  advocate  of  schools,  he  built 
a  schoolhouse  on  his  own  land  fronting  the  Tates  Creek  Pike 
for  the  benefit  of  his  own  children  and  those  of  other  families 
of  the  neighborhood. 

At  this  time  his  son  Tilghman  had  married  and  now  lived 
in  Logan  County,  Kentucky,  and  his  daughters,  Eleanor  and 
Arah,  also  had  found  husbands  and  had  moved  to  homes  of 
their  own.  The  other  Offutt  boys— Otho,  Resin,  Samuel,  Den- 
ton, and,  later,  Azra— attended  school— all  of  them  regularly 
except  Denton.  Intelligent,  industrious,  imaginative,  ambi- 
tious, Denton  was  almost  from  infancy  a  typical  ''young  man 
in  a  hurry."  For  him  "book  learning"  was  indeed  a  waste  of 
time.  He  intended  to  go  into  business— to  make  money— to 
be  rich  some  day.   Some  of  the  outstanding  citizens  in  Lexing- 


32  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

ton  who  had  reached  the  pinnacle  of  success  in  trade  and 
finance  could  hardly  read  or  write!  Even  in  law  and  states- 
manship, look  at  Mr.  Clay  who  had  received  but  little  formal 
education! 

In  winter  young  Denton,  besides  running  his  own  trap 
lines,  hung  around  Chrisman's  mill,  especially  in  January  when 
"hides"  were  "prime,"  buying  mink  and  otter  skins  from  other 
farm  boys  in  the  community.  In  spring  and  summer  he  helped 
his  father  prepare  livestock  for  market.  Even  in  early  youth 
his  amazing  influence  over  animals  was  a  subject  of  wide  com- 
ment. He  could  handle  with  the  greatest  ease— quietly  and 
gently— the  wildest  horse  or  the  most  obstinate  mule. 

Yet  for  all  his  scorn  of  schooling  Denton  was  a  worshiper 
of  brains,  and  his  hero  was  his  younger  brother  Azra,  who 
loved  books,  became  a  student  at  Transylvania,  and  graduated 
from  its  famous  College  of  Medicine  in  the  class  of  1826.  He 
boasted  about  Azra.  Nobody  had  ever  read  so  fine  a  piece  as 
his  thesis:  "The  Trephining  in  Injuries  of  the  Head."5  Azra, 
declared  Denton,  would  some  day  be  the  greatest  physician 
and  surgeon  in  the  United  States! 

Brother  Tilghman's  horse  breeding,  training,  and  general 
livestock  business  prospered  greatly  in  Logan  County.  By  the 
early  twenties  he  was  far  on  his  way  to  what  he  actually  be- 
came a  few  years  later— the  largest  taxpayer  in  that  part  of  the 
state.  Every  spring  he  came  to  the  Bluegrass  and  bought  fine 
brood  mares  to  breed  to  his  stallions,  especially  his  great  trot- 
ting sire  "Hamiltonian."6  In  October  of  each  year  Denton  and 
Tilghman's  son  Joe— said  to  have  been  the  very  "spit  and 
image,"  both  physically  and  temperamentally,  of  his  uncle- 
drove  large  herds  of  stock  overland  to  Natchez.  In  March  they 
took  them  by  flatboat  down  the  flooded  waters  of  Green  River 
to  the  Ohio  and  thence  to  New  Orleans. 

On  January  25,  1827,  Samuel  Offutt  died.  "Aged  76  years, 
and  an  inhabitant  of  this  state  for  the  last  26  years,"  said  the 
Lexington  Reporter.7  By  the  terms  of  his  will  he  left  to  his 
wife  Elizabeth  his  plantation  and  its  equipment  and  all  house- 


THE  LITTLE   TRADER  FROM  HICKMAN  CREEK  33 

hold  goods  for  life,  all  of  his  slaves  not  specifically  devised  to 
others,  and  her  choice  of  "four  head  of  horses,  four  head  of 
cows,  twenty  head  of  hogs  and  twenty  head  of  sheep"  from  his 
stock  on  hand.  The  testator  bequeathed  to  Resin  "one  negro 
man  named  Harry,"  to  Azra  "one  negro  man  named  Charles," 
to  Denton  "one  negro  man  named  George,"  to  Arah  "one 
negro  girl  named  Mary."  For  the  support  and  education  of 
his  grandson,  William  Offutt  Thompson,  he  bequeathed  a 
"negro  girl  named  Caroline  &  also  a  negro  boy  named  Gabriel." 
The  residue  of  his  property  he  left  in  equal  shares  to  Otho, 
Tilghman,  Samuel,  Resin,  Azra,  Denton,  and  Arah.8 

Several  years  previously  Resin  Offutt  had  set  out  with  a 
party  of  adventurous  Lexingtonians  for  the  Missouri  frontier. 
Glowing  reports  had  come  back  of  his  quick  success  in  trading 
in  furs  and  horses  with  the  Indians  along  the  Platte  River 
and  in  shipping  cargoes  down  the  river  to  St.  Louis.  It  is  quite 
evident  from  the  local  records  that  after  the  death  of  his  father, 
Denton  also  determined  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  trading 
business  which  was  making  Resin  rich  in  the  West. 

On  January  19,  1829,  Denton  sold  his  one-seventh  interest 
in  the  home  place  to  his  brother  Samuel  and  also  disposed  of 
his  Negro  George,  and  all  other  personalty  which  he  had  re- 
ceived under  the  will  of  his  father.  By  the  fall  of  18299  he 
had  converted  all  available  resources  into  cash,  which  probably 
amounted  to  as  much  as  $2,000,  and  was  ready  to  seek  fame 
and  fortune  in  a  new  country.  But  he  left  the  old  home  on 
Hickman  Creek  with  a  heavy  heart.  Having  acquired  all  the 
interest  of  the  other  heirs  in  his  father's  plantation,  Dr.  Azra 
had  married  lovely  Antoinette  Caroline  Hale  and  with  his 
bride  moved  there  to  live  with  his  mother.  That  summer 
cholera  broke  out  in  the  neighborhood,  and  on  July  19,  1829, 
Antoinette,  to  the  great  distress  of  Azra  and  Denton,  had  been 
suddenly  stricken  with  it  and  had  died  within  a  few  hours.10 

It  is  not  known  just  when  Denton  Offutt  arrived  in  Illinois, 
nor,  indeed,  why  he  went  there  at  all,  but  he  was  first  heard 


34  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

from  one  day  in  February,  1831,  when  he  stopped  at  the  house 
of  John  Hanks  in  Macon  County,  near  Decatur.  It  is  possible 
that  Offutt  had  heard  of  Hanks  on  some  of  his  river  trips  with 
nephew  Joe.  In  any  event,  he  informed  Hanks  that  he  under- 
stood he  had  been  "quite  a  flat  boatman  in  Kentucky,"  and, 
said  Hanks,  "he  wanted  me  to  run  a  flat  boat  for  him."11  Hanks 
was  willing  to  undertake  the  job  and  suggested  as  another 
member  of  the  crew  his  young  cousin,  Abraham  Lincoln,  re- 
cently arrived  in  Illinois,  who  also  had  had  flatboat  experience 
while  living  in  Indiana. 

"I  hunted  up  Abe,"  said  Hanks,  "and  introduced  him  and 
John  D.  Johnston,  his  step-brother,  to  Offutt.  After  some  talk, 
we  made  an  engagement  with  Offutt  at  50c  a  day  and  $60.00 
to  make  a  trip  to  New  Orleans."12 

Offutt  is  described  by  those  who  saw  him  about  that  time 
as  "a  short,  rather  stockily  built  man,  of  good  natured,  amiable 
disposition,  free  handed  and  of  great  sociability— a  trader  and 
speculator  who  always  had  his  eyes  open  to  the  main  chance."13 

Thus  it  happened  that  about  the  middle  of  March,  1831, 
Hanks  and  Lincoln  paddled  down  the  Sangamon  River  in  a 
canoe  to  Judy's  Ferry,  where  they  met  Johnston.  Together 
they  walked  the  five  miles  into  Springfield,  where  they  found 
their  convivial  employer  entertaining  friends  at  the  Buckhorn, 
the  town's  leading  tavern. 

Having  been  unable  to  rent  a  flatboat,  Offutt  hired  them 
to  cut  timber  on  government  land  and  float  the  logs  down 
the  river  to  Fitzpatrick's  mill,  where  lumber  could  be  sawed 
to  build  a  craft,  eighty  feet  long  and  eighteen  feet  wide.  Camp- 
ing in  a  "shanty  shed,"  which  they  had  hastily  put  up,  the 
three  men  ate  Lincoln's  cooking,  except  for  the  few  times  when 
they  were  invited  to  the  nearby  cabin  of  Caleb  Carman.  Look- 
ing at  the  tall,  gangling  youth  clad  in  a  short,  blue  jean  coat, 
trousers  that  exposed  more  than  eighteen  inches  of  sharp  shin- 
bone,  a  broad-brimmed  hat  of  buckeye  splints  perched  jauntily 
on  the  back  of  his  unruly  shock  of  heavy  black  hair,  Carman 


THE  LITTLE  TRADER  FROM  HICKMAN  CREEK  35 

thought  he  was  a  "Green  horn,"  though  "after  a  half  hour's 
conversation  with  him,  I  found  him  no  Green  horn."14 

Books  being  unavailable,  Lincoln  participated  in  the  game 
of  seven-up,  played  of  evenings  with  Hanks  and  Johnston  and 
others  who  visited  the  camp,  handling  his  cards  with  excep- 
tional skill  and  entertaining  everybody  with  his  droll  humor 
and  funny  stories.15  Finally  after  about  six  weeks  the  boat 
was  finished  and  loaded  with  barrel  pork,  corn,  and  live  hogs. 
Slowly  it  swung  out  from  the  marshy  river  bank— Skipper  Offutt 
on  deck,  watching  with  growing  admiration  the  stalwart,  sin- 
ewy Lincoln  as  with  mighty  sweeps  of  the  huge  steering  oar 
he  maneuvered  the  clumsy  craft  into  the  current  of  the  muddy 
Sangamon. 

Skipper  and  crew  had  proceeded,  however,  only  a  few  miles 
when  serious  trouble  overtook  them.  At  a  little  settlement 
called  New  Salem  flood  waters  had  receded  so  that  the  boat 
stuck  on  the  milldam  and  hung  there  part  way  over  for  a  day 
and  a  night.  Most  of  the  cargo,  including  the  hogs,  was  trans- 
ferred to  another  boat.  Lincoln  then  quickly  solved  what  the 
watching  villagers  declared  to  be  an  insurmountable  difficulty 
by  borrowing  a  large  auger  and  boring  holes  in  the  end  of  the 
vessel  that  projected  over  the  dam.  When  the  water  that  had 
leaked  in  ran  out,  the  holes  were  plugged,  barrels  of  pork 
pushed  forward,  and  the  boat  then  lurched  over  the  dam  with 
a  resounding  splash.  Profoundly  impressed  by  this  exhibition 
of  his  new  boathand's  ingenuity,  glowing  with  admiration  at 
this  fresh  evidence  of  Lincoln's  talents,  Offutt  declared  to  the 
crowd  on  the  bank  that  he  intended  to  build  a  steamboat 
especially  to  meet  the  obstacles  of  the  Sangamon.  She  would 
have  rollers  for  shoals  and  dams,  runners  for  snow  and  ice, 
and  with  Lincoln  as  her  captain  "by  thunder  she'll  have  to 
go!"16 

Down  the  river  the  boatmen  went  without  further  mishap 
into  the  broader,  deeper  Illinois,  past  Beardstown,  where  peo- 
ple on  the  shore  laughed  at  the  strange-looking  craft  with  sails 


3(5  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

of  plank  and  cloth  and  its  grunting,  squealing  freight,  out 
upon  the  wide  Mississippi,  past  St.  Louis,  where  John  Hanks 
left  them,  past  Cairo,  tying  up  for  a  day  at  Memphis,  with 
brief  stops  at  Vicksburg  and  Natchez.17  Then  in  early  May, 
Offutt  and  his  weather-beaten  little  crew  poled  into  the  busy 
harbor  of  New  Orleans,  where  they  would  remain  for  a  month 
while  the  owner  leisurely  and  profitably  disposed  of  his  cargo. 

One  morning,  strolling  about  town,  taking  in  the  sights, 
the  men  from  Illinois  came  upon  a  slave  auction.  A  handsome, 
light  mulatto  girl  stood  on  the  block,  while  prospective  bidders 
pinched  her  flesh  and  otherwise  satisfied  themselves  that  the 
merchandise  offered  was  of  the  quality  proclaimed.  For  a  few 
minutes  they  silently  watched  the  revolting  scene.  Then  Lin- 
coln turned  away.  "By  God,  boys,  let's  get  away  from  this," 
he  exclaimed  in  horror.18 

In  June,  Offutt  and  his  party  boarded  a  steamboat  for  St. 
Louis.  By  this  time  a  strong  attachment  existed  between  Lin- 
coln and  his  employer.  The  voluble,  energetic,  optimistic 
little  Lexingtonian  seemed  widely  traveled,  as  he  talked  of 
Baltimore,  Washington,  Pittsburgh,  Cincinnati,  and  the  river 
towns  of  the  Mississippi.  Moreover,  Offutt  was  a  devoted  fol- 
lower of  Henry  Clay,  whom  Lincoln  had  so  much  admired 
since  he  first  began  to  read  about  him  in  the  Louisville  Journal 
at  Gentryville.  Offutt  could  not  remember  when  he  did  not 
know,  at  least  by  sight,  "Gallant  Harry";  and  his  personal 
acquaintance  with  the  great  man,  his  oratorical  ability  and 
political  triumphs,  lost  nothing  in  the  telling. 

Lincoln  had  completely  charmed  the  little  trader.  He  was 
in  Offutt's  opinion  the  shrewdest,  best-read,  most  resourceful 
young  man  he  had  ever  met.  In  fact,  he  was  as  smart  and 
already  knew  as  much  about  books  as  brother  Azra,  which 
from  Denton  was  a  very  high  compliment  indeed.  Fun  loving, 
good  humored,  honest,  Lincoln  seemed  to  have  all  the  qualities 
for  a  successful  merchant,  and  before  the  boat  arrived  at  St. 
Louis,  Offutt  had  employed  him  to  run  a  store  which  he  in- 
tended to  open  at  New  Salem  just  as  soon  as  goods  could  be 


THE  LITTLE  TRADER  FROM  HICKMAN  CREEK  37 

bought  and  delivered.  Offutt  got  off  the  packet  at  St.  Louis, 
where  he  was  to  purchase  the  merchandise  and  arrange  for 
shipping  and  hauling  it,  while  Lincoln  started  on  foot  for 
home,  120  miles  away.  Thomas  Lincoln  then  lived  at  Buck 
Grove  in  Coles  County,  and  Lincoln  stayed  there  with  his 
father  for  several  weeks  until  it  was  time  to  meet  his  employer. 

It  was  late  in  July,  1831,  when  Abraham  Lincoln  trudged 
to  New  Salem.  Offutt  had  not  arrived,  and  Lincoln  did  not 
know  the  reason  until  later.  His  mother  had  died  on  February 
21.  Having  been  notified  that  his  presence  was  needed  in  the 
settlement  and  division  of  her  estate,  he  had  made  a  brief  trip 
back  to  Kentucky.19  Embarking  on  his  new  venture  with  Lin- 
coln, he  could  use  his  share  just  now  to  excellent  advantage. 

He  was  distressed,  however,  to  find  brother  Azra  still  utterly 
disconsolate  over  the  loss  of  his  lovely  Antoinette,  dead  now 
two  years  that  month.  The  doctor  could  not  forget  that  at  the 
time  his  wife  became  ill  he  was  attending  several  patients  suf- 
fering from  the  same  malady  from  which  she  had  died,  and 
he  had  developed  a  fixation  that  he  had  "brought  it  home  to 
her."  Neglecting  his  practice,  avoiding  friends,  he  would  sit 
for  hours  at  the  foot  of  her  grave  under  the  old  trees  in  the 
orchard  at  the  back  of  the  house. 

But  beckoning  fortune  in  young,  virile,  but  somnolent 
Illinois  visualized  through  the  rose-tinted  glasses  of  his  incor- 
rigible optimism— Offutt,  the  Merchant  Prince  of  the  Sanga- 
mon, who  would  awaken  this  backwoods  giant  to  a  realization 
of  his  strength  and  potentialities— made  it  impossible  to  dwell 
at  length  even  upon  family  afflictions.  Selling  his  share  of  his 
mother's  estate  to  Otho,  he  hurried  back  to  keep  his  commit- 
ments with  the  waiting  Lincoln. 

The  store  opened  about  September  1,  1831,  in  a  log  cabin 
at  the  edge  of  the  bluff  above  the  village  mill.20  It  was  a  typical 
frontier  establishment,  with  dry  goods  and  whisky— liquor  in 
quantity,  but  not  by  the  drink— as  much  a  part  of  the  store  as 
coffee,  tea,  sugar,  molasses,  tobacco,  and  gunpowder.21  In  a 
short  time  the  proprietor  found  his  faith  in  his  young  clerk 


38  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

so  fully  justified  that  he  rented  the  mill  from  Rutledge  and 
Cameron  and  put  Lincoln,  with  "Slicky"  Bill  Greene  as  his 
assistant,  in  charge  of  the  "whole  shebang."22  Several  times 
each  day  Lincoln's  long  legs  carried  him  quickly  from  store 
to  mill  and  back  to  store  again. 

Meanwhile,  the  little  trader  from  Hickman  Creek  was  also 
busy.  On  his  Kentucky  saddle  horse  he  rode  across  the  prairies 
and  through  the  Sangamon  bottoms,  urging  the  production 
of  bigger  and  better  crops.  Improvement  in  river  transporta- 
tion afforded  an  easy,  natural  outlet.  He  would  prove  the 
Sangamon  navigable  except,  possibly,  at  the  lowest  ebb  in 
summer.  He  would  buy  all  the  grain  and  pork  the  farmers 
of  the  region  could  raise,  process  what  was  needed  for  their 
family  use  at  his  mill,  settle  their  accounts  at  his  store  with 
part  of  it,  and  sell  the  excess  in  New  Orleans.  These  were  to 
be  first  links  in  a  chain  of  integrated  enterprises  which  event- 
ually would  make  every  participant  a  man  of  fortune. 

Lincoln  found  little  in  frontier  life  that  he  had  not  known 
before  in  Indiana.  Religion  was  demonstrative  and  the  use 
of  ardent  spirits  widely  prevalent.  Community  intercourse 
was  centered  about  the  familiar  camp  meetings,  log  rollings, 
house  raisings,  and  trading  excursions  to  the  village  on  Satur- 
day afternoons. 

But  the  devilry  of  the  Clary's  Grove  boys  added  a  spice 
and  zest  to  New  Salem  atmosphere  that  Gentryville  never  had. 
Wild,  reckless,  impulsive,  yet  warmhearted,  honest,  and  truth- 
ful—physical courage  and  strength  their  ideals  of  perfect  man- 
hood—these young  rowdies,  largely  descendants  of  Kentuckians 
who  had  brought  their  racing  stock  and  game  chickens  to  the 
frontier  country,  were  equally  ready  for  fight  or  frolic.23  Hos- 
tile to  strangers  whose  "nerve"  was  yet  untested,  they  stood 
aloof  from  Lincoln  until  one  sunny  afternoon,  under  the  giant 
oak  near  Offutt's  store,  when  droll,  whimsical  destiny  sum- 
moned him  by  boastful  proclamation  of  the  infatuated  little 
merchant  from  the  Bluegrass. 

Lincoln  had  grown  steadily  in  the  exalted  esteem  of  his 


THE  LITTLE  TRADER  FROM  HICKMAN  CREEK  39 

employer— both  as  to  physical  and  mental  endowments.  In 
New  Salem  and  up  and  down  the  Sangamon  valley  Offutt 
extravagantly  praised  Lincoln's  skill  as  a  businessman  and  his 
amazing  intellectual  attainments,  proclaimed  him  to  be  "the 
smartest  man  in  the  United  States,"  and  declared  that  he  could 
"outrun,  outjump,  whip  or  throw  down"  any  man  in  Sangamon 
County.24 

So  it  happened  that  on  this  particular  Saturday  afternoon 
Offutt  strutted  back  and  forth  in  front  of  his  store  hailing 
passers-by  with  wide  sweeps  of  an  arm  and  a  fist  full  of  silver, 
offering  to  bet  ten  dollars  on  the  manly  prowess  of  his  protege. 
Lincoln  was  inside  the  store  when  it  started,  but  as  soon  as 
he  heard  of  it  he  hurried  out  and  tried  to  stop  his  overen- 
thusiastic  employer,  saying  emphatically  that  he  had  no  desire 
whatever  to  engage  in  any  contest  of  this  nature.  It  was  too 
late,  however,  because  Bill  Clary  had  run  out  of  his  saloon 
next  door,  accepted  the  challenge,  and  named  Jack  Armstrong, 
leader  of  the  Clary's  Grove  boys,  as  Lincoln's  opponent.  Arm- 
strong was  a  big-boned,  square-built  man  of  medium  height, 
"strong  as  an  ox,"  weighing  over  two  hundred  pounds,  a  vet- 
eran in  frontier  "kick,  bite  and  gouge"  combat,  who  had 
thrown  or  whipped  every  man  who  had  wrestled  or  fought 
him.25  Lincoln  weighed  one  hundred  eighty-five  pounds,  was 
six  feet  four  inches  tall,  cool,  self-possessed,  deceptively  agile, 
and  quick  on  his  large  feet. 

Everybody  in  the  village  seemed  to  get  word  of  the  im- 
pending battle  at  the  same  time,  and  all  turned  out  to  witness 
what  promised  to  be  a  thrilling  example  of  the  age-old  contest 
between  the  lion  and  the  panther.  Whooping  and  "hollering," 
the  Clary's  Grove  boys  formed  a  circle,  offering  to  wager  knives, 
cash,  trinkets,  and  whisky  on  their  Jack  but  finding  few  takers 
except  Offutt,  who  loudly  continued  to  predict  victory  for  his 
incomparable  clerk,  backing  him  to  the  limit  of  his  available 
resources. 

The  two  men,  stripped  to  the  waist,  crouched,  eyed  each 
other,  sidled  cautiously,  clenched,  broke,  grappled  again,  tug- 


40  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

ging,  twisting.  Armstrong  felt  the  tremendous  strength  of  long, 
sinewy,  rail-mauling  arms;  Lincoln  staggered  under  the  impact 
of  powerful  shoulders.  Armstrong  craftily  tried  his  famous 
"hip  lock,"  then  the  devastating  "grape  vine  trip,"  but  to  no 
avail.  All  the  tricks  known  to  the  backwoods  "rassle"  left 
both  men  on  their  feet,  but  Armstrong  finally  felt  himself 
fading  under  the  furious  pace.  Struggling  finally  to  break  a 
headlock,  furious  with  pain  and  frustration,  he  now  resorted 
to  a  maneuver  which  except  in  dire  extremity  he  would  have 
scorned.  Lunging  forward,  he  stomped  the  instep  of  Lincoln's 
foot  with  his  boot  heel,  hoping  that  surprise,  if  not  actual 
injury,  would  break  the  crushing  hold  that  held  his  head 
viselike  against  his  adversary's  lean,  hard  body.  But  the  foul 
backfired  most  disastrously  for  Armstrong.  Infuriated  at  such 
tactics,  before  Jack  could  recover  his  balance  Lincoln  in  a 
supreme  effort  lifted  him  high  in  the  air  and  with  a  mighty 
heave  flung  him  over  his  head.  Hitting  the  ground  flat  on  his 
back,  Jack  lay  there  shocked  and  stunned  by  the  heavy  fall. 

At  this  moment  the  Clary's  Grove  boys,  snarling  "Kentucky 
and  Irish  curses,"  rushed  forward  to  avenge  their  dethroned 
champion;  but  the  defiant  Lincoln,  with  his  back  against  the 
store  wall,  dared  them  to  tackle  him  one  at  a  time  and  shouted 
his  willingness  to  fight  them  all.  Just  then  the  vanquished 
Armstrong,  who  had  a  prodigious  admiration  for  courage  and 
brawn,  rushed  through  the  milling  crowd  and  grasped  Lin- 
coln's hand.  "He's  the  best  feller  that  ever  broke  into  this 
settlement,"  he  declared.26 

Biographers  agree  that  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to 
overestimate  the  importance  of  this  episode  in  its  effect  upon 
Lincoln's  later  life.  In  a  single  hour  this  penniless  and  almost 
friendless  youth  had  acquired  an  ever-expanding  group  of 
stanch,  fiercely  loyal  admirers  who  would  serve  him  well  in 
the  near  future  and  later,  as  he  started  upon  that  amazing 
political  career  which  would  end  so  tragically  in  smoke  and 
flags  and  martyrdom.27 

Offutt,  of  course,  was  almost  beside  himself  with  pride  at 


THE  LITTLE  TRADER  FROM  HICKMAN  CREEK  41 

the  adulation  now  being  showered  on  his  protege  and  the 
inflation  of  his  own  self-esteem.  He  bragged  more  than  ever 
and  let  no  one  forget  that  recent  events  had  fully  verified  his 
most  extravagant  predictions.  But  his  unclouded  happiness 
was  not  long  to  be  enjoyed.  The  November  2,  1831,  issue  of 
the  Kentucky  Reporter  contained  a  poignant  news  item:  "On 
Thursday  morning  last,  Dr.  Azra  Offutt  of  Jessamine  County 
put  an  end  to  his  existence  by  hanging  himself  with  a  rope. 
He  was  a  very  industrious,  sober,  moral  citizen  in  good  cir- 
cumstances and  in  the  prime  of  life."  The  brokenhearted  Azra 
had  gone  to  join  his  beloved  Antoinette  under  the  old  trees 
in  the  orchard.  Denton  had  lost  the  man  who  held  first  place 
in  his  affections,  whose  intellectual  attainments  he  had  ad- 
mired most  until  he  met  Lincoln. 

The  Reporter  of  December  6  advertised  the  "Public  Sale 
of  the  Personal  Estate  of  Dr.  Azra  Offutt,  dec'd."— his  Negroes, 
his  horses,  cattle,  mules  and  other  livestock,  his  library,  in- 
cluding "a  handsome  assortment  of  medical  books."  A  post- 
script to  the  notice  added,  "All  those  who  borrowed  books 
belonging  to  the  library  of  Dr.  Offutt  are  requested  to  return 
them  before  the  hour  of  sale." 

Strange  as  it  may  now  seem,  it  was  Lincoln's  ability  to  read 
books  that  astounded  so  many  of  his  devoted  friends.  That 
he  could  write,  too,  was  almost  beyond  the  bounds  of  concep- 
tion. But  to  Offutt  and  the  few  other  citizens  of  New  Salem 
who  had  known  men  of  intellect,  it  was  the  directness  and 
precision  of  Lincoln's  mental  processes  and  his  passion  for 
bare  facts  that  impressed  them  more  than  anything  else.  Har- 
vey Ross,  the  mail  carrier,  observed  this  on  one  occasion  and 
remembered  it  in  old  age.  He  wanted  to  buy  a  pair  of  buck- 
skin gloves  and  asked  Lincoln  if  he  had  any  that  would  fit  him. 
"There's  a  pair  of  dogskin  gloves  that  I  think  will  fit  you," 
said  Lincoln,  throwing  them  on  the  counter,  "and  you  can 
have  them  for  seventy- five  cents." 

Ross  was  surprised  to  hear  them  called  "dogskin."   He  knew 


42  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

that  the  women  of  the  neighborhood  made  all  the  gloves  that 
were  worn  in  that  part  of  the  country  from  deerskins  tanned 
by  the  Indians,  and  that  a  large,  dressed  buckskin  could  be 
bought  for  fifty  or  seventy-five  cents. 

"How  do  you  know  they  are  dogskin  gloves?"  inquired  the 
mail  carrier. 

"Well,  Sir,"  replied  Lincoln,  who,  as  Ross  thought,  was 
somewhat  "rasped"  that  his  word  should  be  questioned,  "I'll 
tell  you  how  I  know  they  are  dogskin  gloves.  Jack  Clary's  dog 
killed  Tom  Watkins'  sheep  and  Tom  Watkins'  boy  killed  the 
dog  and  old  John  Mounts  tanned  the  dogskin  and  Sally  Speers 
made  the  gloves  and  that  is  how  I  know  they  are  dogskin 
gloves." 

"So,  I  asked  no  more  questions  about  the  gloves,"  said  Ross, 
"but  paid  the  six  bits  and  took  them  .  .  .  and  never  found  a 
pair  that  did  me  the  service  that  those  did."28 

With  the  passage  of  time  it  became  increasingly  evident 
that  Lincoln  was  indeed  the  popular  hero  of  New  Salem  and 
especially  of  the  Clary's  Grove  boys.  He  was  their  representa- 
tive in  all  kinds  of  physical  contests  with  champions  from 
Richland,  Indian  Point,  Sand  Ridge,  Sugar  Grove,  and  other 
neighborhoods— running,  jumping,  lifting,  wrestling. 

"He  could  throw  down  any  man  that  took  hold  of  him," 
said  J.  Rowan  Herndon.  "He  could  outrun,  outjump,  outbox 
the  best  of  them."  And  Herndon  added,  "He  could  beat  any 
of  them  on  anecdote."29 

"I  have  seen  him,"  said  Robert  B.  Rutledge,  "frequently 
take  a  barrel  of  whiskey  by  the  chimes  and  lift  it  up  to  his 
face  as  if  to  drink  out  of  the  bung-hole,  but,  I  never  saw  him 
taste  or  drink  any  kind  of  spirituous  liquor."30 

Though  Lincoln  never  drank  or  brawled  nor  even  used 
tobacco,  he  never  rebuked  his  roistering  companions,  nor  did 
he  attempt  to  reform  them  in  any  way  except,  perchance,  by 
force  of  personal  example.  Sometimes  when  he  was  stretched 
out  reading  on  the  counter,  his  head  propped  up  with  bolts  of 
cotton  or  calico,  a  drunken  fight  would  start  in  the  village 


>  « 


/ 


■^ 


Receipts  signed  by  Lincoln  for  Denton  Offutt 

Facsimiles  owned  by  the  author 


The   Rutledge   mill  {above)  and   Denton   Oi  flit's  store   at  New  Salem, 
rebuilt  on  the  original  sites.    Herbert   Georg  Studios,  Springfield,  Illinois 


m 


#v 


I 


THE  LITTLE  TRADER  FROM  HICKMAN  CREEK  43 

street.  Lincoln  would  run  out  and  try  to  stop  it  without  actual 
intervention.  Failing  in  this,  he  would  "pitch  in,"  grab  the 
aggressor  by  the  "nap  of  the  neck  and  seat  of  the  britches," 
and  toss  him  "ten  or  twelve  feet  easily."  This,  an  eyewitness 
dryly  observed,  "usually  ended  the  fuss,"  and  Lincoln  would 
quietly  return  to  his  book.31 

So  great  was  Lincoln's  reputation  for  honesty  and  fair  deal- 
ing that  he  was  often  chosen  judge  for  cock  fights,  wrestling 
matches,  gander  pullings,  foot  races,  and,  indeed,  as  umpire 
in  the  settlement  of  disputes  in  other  matters,  and  his  decisions 
were  accepted  without  a  murmur. 

Bap  McNabb  had  a  little  red  rooster  and  constantly  boasted 
about  his  fierce  prowess  in  the  pit.  One  afternoon  Lincoln 
refereed  a  match  fight  between  Bap's  fowl  and  an  old  ring-wise, 
battle-scarred  cock  of  terrifying  appearance.  McNabb  with  a 
contemptuous  and  confident  gesture  tossed  his  bird  into  the  pit. 
Instantly  his  feathered  adversary  leaped  into  the  air  and  with 
ruffed  hackles  bore  down  upon  him.  The  little  red  rooster 
with  a  terrified  squawk  turned  tail,  hopped  out  of  the  ring, 
and  took  to  the  bushes! 

Sadly  paying  his  wager,  the  chagrined  McNabb  silently  car- 
ried his  chicken  home  and  threw  him  down  in  the  barn  lot. 
The  little  red  rooster,  now  completely  out  of  danger,  flew  up 
on  the  woodpile,  strutted  proudly  back  and  forth,  flapped  his 
wings,  and  crowed  with  the  most  arrogant  defiance.  Bap  looked 
at  him  a  moment.  "Yes,  you  little  cuss,"  he  exclaimed  in  utter 
disgust,  "you're  great  on  dress  parade  but  not  worth  a  damn  in 
a  fight!"32 

Some  thirty  years  later,  General  McClellan  was  reviewing 
a  division  of  infantry  on  the  Potomac  Flats,  just  below  the 
White  House.  Regimental  bands  were  playing,  flags  flying,  the 
ranks— splendidly  uniformed— stood  stiffly  at  attention  as  "Lit- 
tle Mac"  galloped  by  on  his  magnificent  black  stallion.  For 
months  the  general  had  stubbornly  resisted  all  efforts  to  induce 
him  to  move  forward  against  the  enemy.  From  his  office  win- 
dow the  President  watched  the  martial  scene.   Then  he  turned 


II  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

back  to  his  desk.  "Gen.  McClellan,"  he  said  with  a  rueful 
smile,  "reminds  me  of  Bap  McNabb's  rooster."33 

In  the  spring  of  1832  Lincoln's  employer  realized  that  his 
New  Salem  days  were  numbered.  All  his  hopes  and  schemes 
had  been  built  upon  his  implicit  confidence  that  the  Sangamon 
River  was  navigable.  Efforts  to  establish  that  important  fact 
had  flatly  failed.  Furthermore,  New  Salem  had  too  many  stores; 
and  his,  located  near  the  steamboat  wharf  that  was  never  to  be, 
was  farthest  from  the  center  of  the  village,  if  it  must  rely  on 
business  from  the  interior. 

So  one  day  Denton  Offutt,  disillusioned  and  broke,  climbed 
into  a  farm  wagon  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff.  Rutledge  and 
Cameron  had  taken  back  their  mill.  Offutt  had  turned  over 
the  store  to  his  creditors.  Tradition  would  say  that  they  sued 
him  and  attached  his  stock  of  goods,  but  court  records  would 
deny  it.  He  had  failed  in  business,  as  thousands  before  him 
had  failed  and  would  fail  again  and  again,  but  he  had  bilked 
nobody.  While  others  had  sustained  losses  in  his  commercial 
ventures  which,  perhaps,  had  been  launched  too  optimistically, 
but  always  in  good  faith,  he  had  suffered  more  than  any  of 
them,  having  lost  every  dollar  of  his  savings  and  all  of  his  in- 
heritance. 

He  was  glad  of  one  thing— Lincoln  was  securely  in  position 
to  forge  ahead  in  the  world.  He  had  recently  announced  for 
the  Illinois  legislature  as  a  Whig— a  Henry  Clay  Whig.  He  was 
joining  the  military  campaign  against  Black  Hawk,  and  the 
Clary's  Grove  boys  were  sure  to  elect  him  captain  of  their 
company.  Yet  Offutt  was  sad  that  some  of  those  who  had  once 
so  enthusiastically  proclaimed  him  a  veritable  captain  of  finance 
now  spoke  harshly  of  him,  calling  him,  in  the  words  of  Uncle 
Jimmy  Short,  a  "wild,  reckless,  harum  scarum  kind  of  a  man."34 
Lincoln,  of  course,  was  not  one  of  these.  Indeed,  it  would  have 
made  Offutt  happy  to  know  what  perhaps  he  never  knew,  that 
in  future  years,  when  Lincoln  came  to  write  his  autobiographi- 
cal sketch,  he  would  not  fail  to  mention  gratefully  the  name 


THE  LITTLE  TRADER  FROM  HICKMAN  CREEK  45 

of  the  man  who  first  gave  him  a  larger  vision  of  life  and  con- 
fidence in  himself. 

Slowly,  the  clumsy  old  vehicle  descended  the  steep  hill, 
crossed  the  rickety  wooden  bridge  over  Green's  rocky  branch, 
and  turned,  creakily,  down  the  Sangamon  valley.35  The  little 
trader  from  Hickman  Creek  had  left  New  Salem  forever  and 
with  it  all  his  dreams  of  early  fame  and  fortune.  Yet  unwit- 
tingly, as  Abraham  Lincoln's  first  sponsor,  he  had  already 
achieved  a  modest  but  inevitable  immortality. 


FIVE 


Mary  Ann 
Todd 


On  DECEMBER  6,  1817,  two  popular  veterans  of  the  War 
of  1812,  Robert  S.  Todd  of  Captain  Hart's  infantry  and  Sergeant 
Bird  Smith  of  Captain  Trotter's  cavalry,  announced  their  part- 
nership in  an  "Extensive  Grocery  Establishment"  advantageous- 
ly located  on  Cheapside.  One  of  the  firm,  according  to  the 
Gazette,  would  attend  "Foreign  markets  by  which  they  will 
be  enabled  to  supply  their  customers  with  every  article  in  their 
line,  on  better  terms  and  of  better  quality— indeed  with  any 
articles,  such  as  fruits,  et  cetera  that  heretofore  could  not  be 
procured."1  For  the  next  several  years  the  advertisements  of 
Smith  &  Todd  regularly  appeared  in  the  public  prints,  always 
listing  a  full  line  of  high-grade  groceries  and  the  choicest,  rarest 
wines,  spirits,  brandy,  gin,  and  whisky. 

Robert  S.  Todd  was  now  one  of  the  most  enterprising  and 
promising  young  businessmen  of  Lexington,  deeply  interested, 
as  were  his  forebears,  in  political  and  civic  affairs.  He  had 
been  chosen  clerk  of  the  Kentucky  House  of  Representatives 
with  little  or  no  opposition  for  two  sessions,2  and  was  shortly 
to  take  his  seat  as  a  member  of  the  Fayette  County  Court,  a 


MARY  ANN  TODD  47 

position  of  some  distinction  in  the  community.3  Moreover, 
Todd  was  the  father  of  a  growing  family,  which  consisted  of 
two  daughters— Elizabeth,  born  November  18,  1813,  and  Fran- 
ces, born  March  7,  1815— and  a  son,  born  June  25,  1817,  named 
Levi  for  his  grandfather.  On  December  13,  1818,  a  third  daugh- 
ter arrived  at  the  Short  Street  residence,  and  the  newcomer 
was  given  the  name  of  Mary  Ann  for  Mrs.  Todd's  only  sister.4 

Two  years  later  another  son,  Robert  Parker,  was  born,  but 
in  the  middle  of  his  second  summer  he  died,  and  Nelson,  the 
old  body  servant,  hitched  up  the  family  barouche  and,  accord- 
ing to  a  quaint  custom  of  the  town,  delivered  at  the  doors  of 
his  master's  friends  black-bordered  "funeral  tickets"  which  read: 
"Yourself  and  family  are  invited  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Rob- 
ert P.  Todd,  infant  son  of  Mr.  R.  S.  Todd,  from  his  residence 
on  Short  Street,  this  evening,  at  5  o'clock.  Lexington.  July 
22,  1822."5  Little  Mary  Ann  was  delighted  when  a  baby  sister 
came  in  1824.  All  the  other  Todd  children  were  old  enough 
to  go  to  school,  and  during  their  absence  time  hung  heavily  on 
Mary's  hands  until  the  arrival  of  Ann  Maria.6  And  now,  with 
two  "Anns"  in  the  family,  Mary's  middle  name  was  dropped 
from  ordinary  use  to  avoid  confusion. 

Lexington  celebrated  the  Fourth  of  July,  1825,  with  much 
patriotic  fervor.  Sunrise  was  ushered  in  by  the  ringing  of 
church  bells.  At  four  a.m.  Captain  Pike's  company  of  artillery 
cadets  appeared  in  the  streets  as  infantry  and  "after  performing 
evolutions"  marched  to  the  lodgings  of  the  city's  holiday  guest, 
Major  General  Winfield  Scott,  and  fired  a  salute. 

Several  barbecues  were  held  in  the  country.  At  Mr.  Cor- 
nett's  Eagle  Tavern,  where  General  Scott,  Captain  Gale,  his 
aide,  and  Henry  Clay,  the  new  secretary  of  state,  dined,  eighteen 
good  stiff  Kentucky  bourbon  toasts  were  drunk,  among  them 
being:  "The  Memory  of  Washington";  "  'The  Union/  the 
paladium  of  our  political  safety  and  prosperity";  "Henry  Clay, 
Secretary  of  State:  The  man  resolved  &  sacred  to  his  trust,  in- 
flexible to  ill,  and  obstinately  just";  "Our  distinguished  guest, 
General  Winfield  Scott";  "The  Ladies  of  the  Western  Country— 


48  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

the  rose  is  not  less  lovely,  nor  its  fragrance  less  delightful  be- 
cause it  blossoms  in  the  Wilderness."  In  the  afternoon  Clay 
and  General  Scott  joined  a  large  company  of  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen at  Captain  Fowler's  Garden,  where  there  was  dancing 
until  "a  late  hour  in  the  evening."7 

But  in  the  midst  of  all  this  celebration  the  home  of  Robert 
S.  Todd  was  dark  and  quiet,  only  a  single  lamp  burning  low 
in  an  upstairs  bedroom.  Another  boy  had  just  been  born  to 
Eliza  Todd,  and  death  was  hovering  near  the  mother.  All  that 
day  Mary  and  the  other  children  anxiously  watched  the  house 
with  its  closed  shutters  from  their  Grandmother  Parker's  side 
porch  across  the  lawn.  Old  Nelson  trudged  in  and  out  with 
packages  from  Graves'  drugstore.  At  bedtime  the  one-horse 
gigs  of  Dr.  Ben  Dudley  and  Dr.  Elisha  Warfield  still  stood  in 
front  of  the  door,  but  next  morning  the  doctors  were  gone, 
and  pillowcases  hung  on  the  clothesline  in  the  back  yard.  On 
the  following  day  the  funeral  tickets  read:  ' 'Yourself  and  fam- 
ily are  respectfully  invited  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Mrs.  Eliza 
P.,  Consort  of  Robert  S.  Todd,  Esq.,  from  his  residence  on 
Short  Street,  this  Evening  at  4  o'clock.   July  6,  1825."8 

Thus,  at  thirty-four  years  of  age,  Robert  S.  Todd  was  a 
widower  with  six  small  children,  the  last  one,  George  Rogers 
Clark,  only  a  few  days  old.  Fortunately,  however,  he  was  able 
to  keep  his  family  intact.  Ann  Maria,  his  unmarried  sister, 
came  to  live  with  them,  and  this  capable  young  woman  cheer- 
fully assumed  the  management  of  the  household  and  the  care 
of  her  brother's  motherless  children.  The  faithful  Todd  slaves, 
brought  up  in  the  family,  made  the  task  easier  than  it  would 
have  been  otherwise.  Jane  Saunders  was  the  housekeeper; 
Chaney,  the  cook;  Nelson,  the  body  servant  and  coachman, 
also  served  the  dining  room  and  did  the  marketing,  while  old 
"Mammy  Sally"  with  the  young  nurse  Judy  took  excellent  care 
of  the  little  Todds. 

In  January,  1826,  the  General  Assembly  convened  at  Frank- 
fort, and  Robert  S.  Todd  was  again  chosen  clerk  of  the  lower 
house.   It  was  not  long  before  the  gay  social  life  of  the  capital 


MARY  ANN  TODD  49 

brought  him  an  introduction  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Humphreys,  a 
charming,  highly  cultured  young  woman,  a  member  of  one  of 
the  oldest  and  most  prominent  Kentucky  families.  Two  of 
her  uncles,  Preston  Brown  and  Samuel  Brown,  earliest  pro- 
fessor of  medicine  at  Transylvania,  were  physicians  widely 
known  throughout  the  West.  Another  uncle,  John  Brown, 
had  been  Kentucky's  first  United  States  senator,  while  still 
another  uncle,  James  Brown,  brother-in-law  of  Mrs.  Henry 
Clay,  had  represented  Louisiana  in  the  Senate,  and  was  later 
minister  to  France. 

In  a  few  months  Robert  S.  Todd  was  ardently  seeking  the 
hand  of  pretty  Betsy  Humphreys,  although  the  numerous  rela- 
tives of  his  first  wife  did  not  look  with  favor  upon  the  court- 
ship. This  opposition  to  his  remarriage  was  reflected  in  one 
of  his  letters  to  Miss  Humphreys,  who  was  then  visiting  in 
New  Orleans: 

You  have  no  doubt  observed  with  what  avidity  and  eagerness 
an  occasion  of  this  kind  is  seized  hold  of  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
traction and  to  gratify  personal  feelings  of  ill-will  and  indeed  often- 
times how  much  mischief  is  done  without  any  bad  motive.  May  I 
be  permitted  to  put  you  on  your  guard  against  persons  of  this  de- 
scription. Not  that  I  would  wish  to  stifle  fair  enquiry,  for  I  feel 
in  the  review  of  my  past  life  a  consciousness  that  such  would  not 
materially  affect  me  in  your  estimation,  although  there  are  many 
things  which  I  have  done  and  said,  I  would  wish  had  never  been 
done— and  such  I  presume  is  the  case  of  every  one  disposed  to  be 
honest  with  himself.  .  .  .  Wealth  is  sometimes  the  high  road  to 
distinction  &  honors,  but  rarely  to  real  happiness;  a  competency 
is  always  necessary  for  our  comfort  $c  happiness  in  every  situation. 
Did  I  not  believe  that  I  could  offer  you  the  latter,  I  should  never 
have  proposed  a  change  of  the  situation  where  you  now  enjoy  it— 
and  to  effect  that  object,  I  have  always  felt  it  a  duty  which  I  owe 
to  those  entrusted  to  my  care  and  protection,  to  use  the  necessary 
exertion.  I  am  in  that  situation  which  the  good  old  book  describes 
as  the  most  desirable:  "Not  so  poor  as  to  be  compelled  to  beg  my 
bread  nor  so  rich  as  to  forget  my  maker,"  to  the  latter  part  of  my 
quotation,  I  know  I  have  not  paid  that  regard  which  my  duty  re- 
quired.9 


50  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

By  late  October,  Robert  S.  Todd  and  Betsy  Humphreys 
were  engaged,  and  Todd  was  writing  his  fiancee:  "I  hope  you 
will  not  consider  me  importunate  in  again  urging  upon  your 
consideration  the  subject  of  my  last  letter.  I  am  sure  if  you 
knew  my  situation,  you  would  not  hesitate  to  comply  with 
my  wishes  in  fixing  on  a  day  for  our  marriage  in  this  or  the 
early  part  of  the  ensuing  week."10 

This  was  followed  a  few  days  later  by  another  note  to  Miss 
Humphreys,  which  read: 

Lexington,  Oct.  25,  1826. 
Dear  Betsy: 

I  received  your  kind  letter  of  Monday,  for  which  I  return  you 
my  sincere  acknowledgements.  Availing  myself  of  the  privilege 
which  it  seems  to  give,  I  hasten  to  inform  you  that  I  will  be  down 
on  Wednesday  next,  the  1st  day  of  November.  Mr.  Crittenden,  if 
unmarried,  will  be  my  only  attendant.  I  intend  to  write  to  him 
by  this  mail.  It  is  now  late,  &  I  bid  you  a  pleasant  good  night.  Be- 
lieve me  Dear  Betsy,  when  I  subscribe  myself 

Affectionately  yours, 
R.  S.  Todd.11 

On  Wednesday,  November  1,  1826,  Robert  S.  Todd  and 
Betsy  Humphreys  were  married  at  the  historic  old  home  of 
the  bride  in  Frankfort.12  Todd's  best  man  was  John  J.  Crit- 
tenden, who  in  spite  of  his  youth  had  already  been  speaker  of 
the  Kentucky  House  of  Representatives,  had  served  his  state 
in  the  United  States  Senate,  was  later  to  be  twice  attorney 
general  of  the  United  States,  governor  of  Kentucky,  and  again 
senator.13 

The  Widow  Parker  had  been  much  opposed  to  the  remar- 
riage of  her  son-in-law,  and  she  never  became  fully  reconciled 
to  the  second  Mrs.  Todd.  The  situation,  therefore,  which  im- 
mediately confronted  the  young  stepmother  was  not  an  easy 
one.  Yet  she  assumed  the  duties  of  her  new  household  with 
poise,  tact,  patience,  and  a  deep  interest  in  the  welfare,  educa- 
tion, and  training  of  her  six  stepchildren.  Mary,  as  Mrs.  Todd 
soon  discovered,  was  a  sprightly,  but  curiously  complex  little 


MARY  ANN  TODD  51 

creature,  high-strung,  headstrong,  precocious,  warmhearted, 
sympathetic,  and  generous— a  mischievous  tomboy  who,  while 
leading  her  older  brother  Levi  a  merry  chase,  was  also  pas- 
sionately fond  of  birds,  flowers,  pretty  dresses,  and  other  dainty 
things  that  delight  the  feminine  heart. 

Mary  was  about  eight  years  old  when  she  entered  the  acad- 
emy of  Dr.  John  Ward,  located  in  a  large,  two-story  building 
on  the  southeast  corner  of  Market  and  Second  streets.14  Dr. 
Ward,  the  rector  of  Christ  Church  Episcopal,  was  a  native  of 
Connecticut  who  had  been  bishop  of  North  Carolina  before 
coming  to  Kentucky  in  search  of  health.  Kindly,  scholarly, 
benevolent,  he  was  nevertheless  a  strict  disciplinarian.  Far  in 
advance  of  his  time,  he  believed  in  coeducation,  and  his  school 
numbered  about  120  boys  and  girls  from  the  best  families  in 
Lexington. 

Early  morning  recitation  was  a  peculiar  regulation  of  Dr. 
Ward's  academy,  and  during  the  summer  months  the  history 
class  assembled  at  five  o'clock.  One  morning  just  before  day- 
break the  new  nightwatchman,  a  recent  stalwart  immigrant 
from  the  Emerald  Isle,  observed  a  young  lady  hurrying  up 
Second  Street  with  a  bundle  under  her  arm.  Thinking  that 
he  had  discovered  an  elopement,  the  vigilant  watchman  gave 
chase,  which  ended  only  when  the  breathless  "scholar,"  much 
to  the  merriment  of  the  other  pupils  and  the  annoyance  of 
Dr.  Ward,  burst  into  the  schoolroom  hotly  pursued  by  Flan- 
nigan,  club  in  hand.15 

Mary  Todd's  cousin,  Elizabeth  Humphreys,  a  member  of 
the  Todd  household  during  Mary's  girlhood,  on  September 
28,  1895,  wrote  vivid  reminiscences  of  Dr.  Ward  and  Mary's 
early  school  days: 

His  requirements  and  rules  were  very  strict  and  woe  to  her 
who  did  not  conform  to  the  letter.  Mary  accepted  the  conditions 
cheerfully,  even  eagerly,  and  never  came  under  his  censure.  Mr. 
Ward  required  his  pupils  to  recite  some  of  their  lessons  before 
breakfast.  On  bright  summer  mornings  this  was  no  hardship,  and 
Mary  skipped  blithely  to  her  recitations,  but  she  never  murmured 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  fLUNOIS 


52  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

when  conditions  were  not  so  pleasant.  When  she  had  to  get  up 
out  of  her  warm  bed  and  dress  by  candle-light,  she  smiled  and 
trudged  sturdily  through  snow  and  sleet.  .  .  .  Mary  was  far  in 
advance  over  girls  of  her  age  in  education.  She  had  a  retentive 
memory  and  a  mind  that  enabled  her  to  grasp  and  thoroughly 
understand  the  lessons  she  was  required  to  learn.  It  was  a  hard 
task  but  long  before  I  was  through  mine  she  had  finished  hers  and 
was  plying  her  knitting-needles.  We  were  required  to  knit  ten 
rounds  of  socks  every  evening. 

Her  cousin  further  stated  that  "Mary  even  as  a  schoolgirl  in 
her  gingham  dresses  was  certainly  very  pretty.  She  had  clear, 
blue  eyes,  long  lashes,  light  brown  hair  with  a  glint  of  bronze 
and  a  lovely  complexion.  Her  figure  was  beautiful  and  no  old 
master  ever  modeled  a  more  perfect  arm  and  hand."16 

But  these  days  of  early  girlhood  were  far  from  a  mere 
routine  of  tasks  and  recitations.  Mary's  uncle,  the  Reverend 
Robert  Stuart,  a  professor  of  languages  at  Transylvania  and  a 
noted  Presbyterian  minister,  lived  a  few  miles  from  Lexington 
on  the  Richmond  Pike,  and  here  Mary  spent  many  happy  days: 
horseback  rides  down  the  shady  winding  lanes,  picnics  with  the 
Stuart  children  under  the  majestic  trees  of  nearby  woodlands, 
nutting  expeditions  in  autumn  with  excursions  into  dense 
thickets  in  search  of  wild  grapes  and  the  luscious  papaw,  hilari- 
ous sleigh  rides  in  winter,  with  games,  stories,  and  apple  roast- 
ings  in  the  evenings  on  the  broad  hearth  of  the  giant  fireplace 
that  snapped  and  roared  with  seasoned  hickory  wood.17 

Mary's  most  intimate  friends,  except  for  her  cousin,  Mary 
Stuart,  were  girls  slightly  older  than  she:  Mary  and  Margaret 
Wickliffe,  daughters  of  state  senator  Robert  Wickliffe,  dis- 
tinguished lawyer  and  one  of  the  largest  and  wealthiest  slave- 
owners in  Kentucky,  who  lived  at  "Glendower";  Isabella  Bod- 
ley,  daughter  of  Thomas  Bodley,  officer  of  the  War  of  1812, 
presidential  elector,  grand  master  of  the  Masonic  Grand  Lodge 
of  Kentucky,  who  lived  at  "Bodley  House"  and  had  a  French 
governess  and  an  English  head  nurse  for  the  junior  members 
of  his  large  family;  Catherine  Cordelia  Trotter,  daughter  of 


MARY  ANN   TODD  53 

General  George  Trotter,  Jr.,  prominent  merchant,  one  of  the 
heroes  of  the  Battle  of  the  Thames,  colonel  of  the  old  42nd 
Regiment  of  Kentucky  Militia  in  which  Robert  S.  Todd  had 
been  a  captain,  who  lived  at  "Woodlands";  and  Mary  Jane  and 
Julia  Warfield,  daughters  of  Dr.  Elisha  Warfield,  noted  sur- 
geon, professor  of  surgery  and  obstetrics  at  Transylvania,  breed- 
er of  famous  race  horses,  who  lived  at  "The  Meadows." 

Adding  much  to  the  hilarity  of  all  parties  and  outings, 
always  anxious  to  promote  the  happiness  and  entertainment  of 
this  group,  were  the  idolized  older  brother  of  the  Wickliffe 
girls— Charles,  tall,  handsome,  volatile,  auburn-haired,  blue-eyed 
—and  Catherine  Cordelia  Trotter's  amiable  brother— George, 
dark,  tense,  studious,  and  slight  of  build,  equally  ready  for 
fun  and  frolic.  The  two  young  men,  almost  the  same  age,  were 
inseparable  companions,  and  one  or  both  of  them  on  the  front 
seat  of  the  family  two-horse  carry-all,  with  Mary  Todd  and 
her  young  friends  waving  gaily  from  the  rear  of  the  vehicle, 
were  a  familiar  sight  on  the  streets  of  Lexington  and  the  broad 
turnpikes  of  its  countryside.18 

Then,  as  suddenly  as  a  falling  star  streaking  across  a  calm, 
clear,  evening  sky,  an  event  occurred  at  Frankfort  which  in- 
stantly ignited  public  opinion  and  set  Bluegrass  families  aflame 
—one  against  another— for  many  a  long  year. 

A  bill  was  introduced  in  the  legislature  to  prohibit  the  im- 
portation of  slaves  into  Kentucky.  Instantly  Robert  Wickliffe 
from  the  floor  of  the  Senate  scathingly  denounced  this  sur- 
prising move  of  the  antislavery  group.  Robert  J.  Breckinridge 
and  Cassius  M.  Clay  launched  a  vicious  counterattack.  Ken- 
tucky's first  great  battle  for  slavery— a  contest  which  would 
shake  the  state  to  its  foundations— was  on,  and  distressing  events 
followed  fast  and  furious. 

In  only  a  few  short  months  stark  tragedy  sat  at  the  fireside 
of  two  Lexington  families  who  were  very  close  to  the  heart  of 
Mary  Todd.  On  March  4,  1829,  Charles  Wickliffe,  impetuously 
rushing  to  the  defense  of  his  father,  wrote  an  article  which  was 


54  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

published  in  the  Kentucky  Reporter,  proslavery  mouthpiece, 
phrased  in  the  most  vitriolic  language.  The  owners  and  editor 
of  the  Kentucky  Gazette,  chief  organ  of  the  emancipationists, 
"were  a  set  of  malevolent,  black-hearted  men."  The  sole  reason 
for  the  existence  of  this  vile  set  was  to  destroy  the  reputation 
of  all  persons  who  opposed  their  unholy  schemes. 

"Look  at  your  present  Senator  [Robert  Wickliffe]  whose 
political  life  has  been  consistent,  independent  and  firm,  always 
pursuing  a  straight  course,  never  losing  sight  of  the  interest 
and  honor  of  his  country.  In  the  Gazette  of  the  13ult.  they 
have  denounced  him  as  a  heartless  Aristocrat  and  dishonorable 
man."  Young  Wickliffe  scorned  the  "nest  of  vipers  called  Ga- 
zette men,"  and  particularly  the  writer  of  the  piece,  as  "cheap 
calumniators"  wholly  "destitute  of  truth."  "If  other  epithets 
would  be  termed  decorous  towards  the  public,"  said  he,  "I 
would  add  them  also." 

The  next  issue  of  the  Gazette  answered  Wickliffe  very  much 
in  kind,  and  three  days  later,  a  pistol  in  each  hip  pocket,  the 
infuriated  youth  went  to  the  newspaper  office  and  attacked 
editor  Thomas  R.  Benning,  a  small,  unarmed  man.  When  the 
newspaperman  attempted  to  escape  through  a  rear  door,  Wick- 
liffe shot  him  in  the  back.  The  killing  of  Benning  threw  the 
community,  already  excited  by  the  agitation  of  the  "Negro 
Law,"  into  violent  turmoil  which  became  a  tempest  when 
Wickliffe  was  promptly  acquitted  by  a  proslavery  jury.  The 
report  that  the  defendant  had  emerged  from  his  trial  "swag- 
gering and  defiant"  further  fired  public  indignation. 

Shortly  thereafter  it  was  widely  rumored  that  friends  of 
young,  scholarly  George  Trotter  were  pressing  him  to  take 
Benning's  place  on  the  Gazette,  its  editorial  page  having  been 
inactive  since  his  death.  It  was  being  urged  as  a  duty  he  owed 
to  the  memory  of  his  deceased  father,  General  Trotter,  "one 
of  the  earliest  opponents  of  slavery  in  the  West."  This  rumor 
and  its  accuracy  were  confirmed  when  in  September  the  Gazette 
was  delivered  to  apprehensive  readers  with  the  name  of  George 
Trotter  at  its  masthead. 


MARY  ANN   TODD  55 

The  dread  of  further  conflict  measurably  increased  when 
the  very  next  issue  contained  an  editorial  which  strongly  in- 
sinuated that  the  acquittal  of  Benning's  slayer  had  been  due 
to  a  "picked  and  prejudiced"  jury  and  to  the  "undue  influence" 
of  Henry  Clay,  who  had  delivered  for  two  and  a  half  hours  a 
"harangue"  in  his  defense. 

Ten  days  later  the  young  editor  received  a  note  which  read: 

Lexington,  September  28,  1829. 
Mr.  George  J.  Trotter: 

A  wanton  and  unprovoked  attack  made  upon  my  feelings  in 
the  Gazette  of  the  18th  of  the  present  month,  induces  me  to  de- 
mand that  satisfaction  which  is  due  from  one  gentleman  to  another. 
My  friend,  Dr.  Ritchie,  is  authorized  to  settle  the  several  points 
of  time,  mode  and  place. 

Your  obedient- 
Charles  Wickliffe. 

On  October  1  Trotter  replied: 

Mr.  Charles  Wickliffe, 

Sir,  your  note  was  received  on  yesterday  by  the  hands  of  Dr. 
James  Ritchie  and  whilst  I  cannot  recognize  your  right  to  call  upon 
me  in  the  manner  you  have,  still  the  satisfaction  you  ask  for  shall 
not  be  denied.  My  friend,  John  Robb,  is  fully  authorized  to  confer 
with  Dr.  Ritchie  as  to  the  time,  place  and  distance. 

George  J.  Trotter. 

P.S.  It  is  not  expected  or  desired  by  me  that  Mr.  Robb  will  act 
longer  in  the  affair  than  the  arrival  of  my  friend.    G.J.T. 

Under  the  code  duello  now  being  so  punctiliously  observed, 
Trotter  as  the  challenged  party  had  the  privilege  of  choosing 
the  weapons  and  specifying  the  distance,  time,  and  place  of 
meeting,  which  he  did  on  the  following  day. 

Lexington,  October  2nd,  1829. 
Sir: 

Mr.  Trotter  requests  me  to  inform  you  that  he  has  selected  the 
pistol  to  meet  Mr.  Wickliffe,  the  distance  to  be  8  feet.  Mr.  Trotter 
will  meet  Mr.  Wickliffe  on  Friday  morning  the  9th  at  9:00  o'clock 
a.m.  on  the  Fayette  and  Scott  line,  to  be  selected  by  the  parties. 


56  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

The  friend  whom  Mr.  Trotter  has  selected  to  act  in  the  affair  (for 
reasons  satisfactory)  does  not  wish  to  be  known  in  the  affair  until 
Wednesday  morning,  at  which  time  he  will  hand  in  the  preliminary 
arrangements. 

Respectfully, 

John  H.  Robb.19 

Friday,  October  9,  dawned  cloudless,  one  of  those  glorious 
days  of  Indian  summer  in  Kentucky.  The  long  night  had  been 
sleepless  with  anxiety  and  foreboding  for  those  who  loved  these 
two  hotheaded  scions  of  Bluegrass  aristocracy— friends  but  yes- 
terday—now about  to  settle  their  quarrel  on  a  so-called  field 
of  honor  dictated  by  the  barbarous  code.  The  whole  com- 
munity stood  aghast  at  the  mortal  distance  named  by  Trotter- 
only  eight  feet— when  the  customary  distance  was  ten  paces, 
or  thirty  feet! 

Shortly  before  nine  o'clock  several  two-horse  carriages  on 
the  Georgetown  pike  turned  into  a  large  woodland— the  old 
duelling  ground— about  six  and  a  half  miles  from  Lexington. 
The  principals,  their  surgeons,  and  seconds  alighted.  It  was 
observed  that  "Mr.  Trotter  and  Mr.  Wickliffe  bowed  at  a  re- 
spectable distance,  neither  speaking." 

Dr.  James  Ritchie  acting  for  Wickliffe  and  Captain  Henry 
Johnson  for  Trotter  marked  off  the  distance,  loaded  and 
checked  the  flintlock  pistols.  The  surgeons  spread  blankets  on 
the  ground  a  few  yards  away  with  their  instruments,  bandages, 
and  medicines. 

The  choice  of  position  and  the  right  to  give  the  word  were 
both  won  by  Dr.  Ritchie.  As  the  parties  took  their  positions, 
Captain  Johnson  cautioned  Wickliffe  to  hold  his  pistol  more 
perpendicularly,  but  Trotter  curtly  instructed  his  second  to 
"leave  the  matter  entirely  with  Mr.  Wickliffe."  The  two  men 
stood  calmly  without  coats,  "presenting  the  right  side  to  each 
other,  their  pistols  held  with  muzzles  presented  to  the  ground." 

"One— two— three— four— five,"  counted  Ritchie  slowly  and 
distinctly.  The  pistols  spoke  together.   The  ball  from  Trotter's 


MARY  ANN  TODD  57 

weapon  tore  through  Wickliffe's  trousers,  grazing  him  slightly 
at  the  hip.    Wickliffe's  aim  had  left  Trotter  untouched. 

"I  demand  a  second  fire,"  said  Wickliffe  very  sharply. 

"Sir,  you  shall  have  it  with  pleasure/'  replied  Trotter. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  the  duelists  fired  again— and  again 
Wickliffe  missed,  while  Trotter's  bullet  inflicted  a  mortal 
wound  on  Wickliffe  in  the  lower  abdomen. 

As  the  stricken  man  slowly  "eased  himself  to  the  ground," 
Captain  Johnson  approached  him  and  in  polite  obedience  to 
the  rules  of  the  code  inquired  if  he  was  satisfied. 

"I  am,  Sir,"  said  Wickliffe.  "I  am  -shot  and  unable  to  fire 
again." 

Furiously  galloping  horses  hitched  to  a  careening  rockaway 
rushed  Wickliffe  back  to  beautiful  "Glendower,"  but  all  that 
loving  hands  and  medical  aid  could  do  was  of  no  avail.  Just 
past  noon  Charles  Wickliffe  died,  another  precious  sacrifice  on 
the  altar  of  the  slavocracy.20 

In  1832  Robert  S.  Todd  purchased  a  new  residence  on  Main 
Street  just  two  blocks  from  his  Short  Street  house.21  The  sec- 
ond children  were  coming  on,  and  a  more  spacious  dwelling 
was  desirable.  Two  slave  jails  were  now  being  operated  near 
the  Short  Street  property— one  just  across  the  street  and  the 
other  next  door  with  only  a  narrow  alley  intervening.  One 
event,  however,  in  which  Mary  took  a  delighted  interest,  oc- 
curred before  she  left  the  old  home.  Her  oldest  sister  Eliza- 
beth was  married  on  February  29,  1832,  to  Ninian  W.  Edwards, 
son  of  former  Governor  Ninian  Edwards  of  Illinois  and  then 
a  junior  at  Transylvania,  and  Elizabeth's  uncle,  Dr.  Stuart,  was 
officiating  minister.22 

The  new  home  on  Main  Street  was  a  roomy  brick  house 
with  double  parlors,  a  wide  hall  in  the  center,  and  a  long  ell. 
The  grounds  of  the  rear  lawn  were  ample  for  coach  house, 
stable,  and  servants'  quarters.  The  side  lawn  was  a  beautiful 
flower  garden  with  a  white  gravel  walk  winding  through  the 


58  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

clipped  bluegrass  to  the  conservatory,  and  through  its  lower 
edge  ran  a  clear,  gentle  little  stream,  the  Town  Fork  of  Elkhorn 
Creek,  where  the  Todd  children  waded  and  chased  the  min- 
nows that  scurried  across  the  smooth  limestone  bottom. 

At  fourteen  years  of  age  Mary  Todd  finished  the  preparatory 
course  at  Dr.  Ward's  and  was  ready  to  enter  the  select  boarding 
school  of  Mme.  Victorie  Charlotte  LeClere  Mentelle.  Mme. 
Mentelle  and  her  husband,  Augustus  Waldemare  Mentelle, 
were  French  gentlefolk  of  culture  and  high  education.  Both 
were  born  in  Paris:  Mme.  Mentelle,  the  only  child  of  a  French 
physician;  M.  Mentelle,  the  son  of  a  professor  in  the  National 
and  Royal  Academy,  who  was  also  "historiographer"  to  the 
king.  Shortly  after  their  marriage  in  1792  the  young  couple 
had  fled  from  the  terrors  of  the  Revolution  to  America,  finally 
reaching  Lexington  in  1798.23  For  several  years  following  their 
arrival  the  Mentelles  taught  a  mixed  class  in  French  and  gave 
lessons  in  dancing.24  Then  they  established  a  boarding  school 
for  girls  on  a  rolling  tract  of  woodland  opposite  "Ashland"  on 
the  Richmond  Pike,  donated  by  Mary's  cousin,  Mrs.  Russell,  a 
wealthy  widow  of  the  town.25 

Mme.  Mentelle  was  a  rather  large,  handsome  woman,  an 
excellent  dancer,  a  finished  musician,  an  accomplished  scholar 
in  her  native  tongue,  and  Mary  Todd  undoubtedly  acquired 
from  her  an  intimate  knowledge  and  a  deep  love  of  French, 
but  the  curriculum  was  much  broader  than  the  mere  study  of 
a  single  language.  In  fact,  the  chief  purpose  of  Mme.  Mentelle 
was  to  give  her  pupils,  as  she  announced  through  the  press,  "a 
truly  useful  &  'Solid'  English  Education  in  all  its  branches."26 

However,  it  was  French  that  Mary  took  so  completely  to 
her  heart.  "She  never  gave  it  up,"  said  Elizabeth  Humphreys, 
"but  as  long  as  I  knew  her  continued  to  read  the  finest  French 
authors.  At  different  times,  French  gentlemen  came  to  Lex- 
ington to  study  English  and  when  one  was  fortunate  enough 
to  meet  her,  he  was  not  only  surprised,  but  delighted  to  find 
her  perfect  acquaintance  with  his  language."27 


IIary  Aw  Todd.    Em  Hie  Todd  Helm's 
copy  from  the  original  daguerreotype 


Home  of  "Widow"  Parker,  Mary  Todd's  grandmother,  as  it  looks  toda 


\Y 


The  confectionery  of  Monsieur  Giron.   From  the  Mulligan  Collection 


Dr.  Ward's  Academy 


MARY  ANN  TODD  59 

Mary  Todd  spent  four  happy  years  at  the  institution  on 
the  Richmond  Pike.  Every  Monday  morning  the  Todd  car- 
riage, driven  by  Nelson,  the  dignified  coachman,  rolled  down 
the  long  avenue  and  left  Mary  on  the  broad  piazza  of  the  low, 
rambling,  ivy-covered  structure  that  sheltered  Mme.  Mentelle's 
little  flock.  And  then  on  Friday  afternoons  Nelson  came  for 
her  again. 

It  was  not  all  study  at  the  Mentelle  school.  This  French 
gentlewoman  knew  the  drudgery  of  work  without  play  and 
how  to  maintain  proper  discipline  without  irksome  restrictions. 
When  afternoon  classes  were  over,  in  warm  weather  the  girls 
strolled  arm  in  arm  about  the  ample  grounds,  played  games, 
or  read  to  one  another  on  the  rustic  benches  under  the  fine 
old  forest  trees.  Sometimes  they  gathered  at  the  big  sycamore 
near  the  entrance  to  the  grounds  to  wave  a  greeting  to  their 
friend,  Mr.  Clay,  as  he  drove  to  town  for  his  mail.  On  winter 
evenings  M.  Mentelle,  who  wore  his  abundant  white  hair  in 
a  queue  and  still  dressed  in  smallclothes,  would  take  down  his 
violin,  and  Mme.  Mentelle,  who  "spared  no  pains  with  the 
graces  and  manners  of  young  Ladies  submitted  to  her  care," 
instructed  the  pupils  "in  the  latest  and  most  fashionable  Co- 
tillions, Round  &  Hop  Waltzes,  Hornpipes,  Galopades,  Mo- 
hawks, Spanish,  Scottish,  Polish,  Tyrolienne  dances  and  the 
beautiful  Circassian  Circle."  "It  was  at  Madame  Mentelle's," 
according  to  cousin  Elizabeth,  "that  she  [Mary]  learned  to 
dance  so  gracefully.  In  after  years,  it  was  her  favorite  amuse- 
ment and  the  aristocratic  society  of  Lexington  afforded  ample 
opportunity  for  the  indulgence  of  this  pastime."28 

When  Mary  Todd  finished  boarding  school,  her  father  was 
one  of  the  most  prominent  and  influential  citizens  in  central 
Kentucky,  and  no  man  in  the  state  was  more  highly  respected 
or  better  liked  than  Robert  S.  Todd.  For  years  he  had  been  a 
member  of  the  Fayette  County  Court.  Upon  the  incorporation 
of  the  city  of  Lexington  in  1831  he  was  elected  to  its  first  board 
of  council,  and  on  July  13,  1835,  the  Branch  Bank  of  Kentucky 


60  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

opened  its  doors,  with  Robert  S.  Todd  as  its  first  president. 
Under  the  firm  name  of  Oldham,  Todd  &  Company  he  was 
also  engaged  in  the  cotton  manufacturing  business  with  a  large 
plant  at  Sandersville  near  Lexington  and  a  wholesale  store  in 
town,  supplying  an  extensive  trade  in  Illinois,  Indiana,  Mis- 
souri, and  Ohio. 

Although  high  in  the  councils  of  the  Whig  party  in  Ken- 
tucky, Todd  had  been  for  more  than  twenty  years  the  almost 
unanimous  choice  of  all  political  parties  for  clerk  of  the  Ken- 
tucky House  of  Representatives.29  Now  he  was  urged  to  be- 
come a  candidate  for  lieutenant  governor,  and  his  name  was 
actually  presented  to  the  state  convention  at  Harrodsburg,  but 
withdrawn  at  Todd's  insistence  by  his  friend,  Richard  H. 
Menifee. 

The  Todd  home  on  West  Main  Street  was  noted  for  its 
warm  hospitality.  The  gracious  Mrs.  Todd  was  a  charming 
hostess,  with  Mary  an  eager,  capable  assistant.  As  was  cus- 
tomary in  the  households  of  gentlemen  of  the  Bluegrass,  the 
Todd  cellar  was  always  well  stocked  with  the  finest  Kentucky 
whisky  and  rare  brandies,30  and  it  was  freely  conceded  among 
those  whose  opinions  were  respected  in  such  matters  that  "not 
even  Mr.  Clay's  Charles  could  mix  a  mint  julep  like  Robert 
Todd's  Nelson."31 

When  Henry  Clay,  Senator  Crittenden,  their  brilliant  young 
protege,  Richard  H.  Menifee,  and  other  distinguished  friends 
arrived  at  the  Todd  home,  Nelson  knew  that  a  display  of  his 
wizardry  was  expected.  And  in  a  little  while  the  old  Negro, 
clad  in  his  blue  swallowtail  with  big  brass  buttons,  would  ap- 
pear in  the  library  or  the  vine-covered  house  in  the  garden, 
carrying  a  silver  tray  filled  with  all  the  ingredients  of  his  magic 
concoction. 

The  making  of  a  julep  was  a  ritual  with  Nelson,  always  to 
be  performed  with  solemn  dignity  in  the  presence  of  thirsty, 
admiring  guests:  Tender,  fragrant  mint  firmly  pressed  with 
the  back  of  a  spoon  against  the  glistening  inside  of  a  coin  silver 
goblet;   the  bruised  leaves  gently  removed  and  the  cup  half 


MARY  ANN  TODD  61 

filled  with  cracked  ice;  mellow  bourbon,  aged  in  oaken  staves, 
bubbling  from  a  brown  jigger,  percolated  through  the  sparkling 
cubes  and  slivers;  granulated  sugar  slowly  stirred  into  chilled 
limestone  water  to  a  silvery  mixture  as  smooth  as  some  rare 
Egyptian  oil  was  poured  on  top  of  the  ice;  then  while  beads 
of  moisture  gathered  on  the  burnished  exterior  of  the  goblet, 
old  Nelson  garnished  the  frosted  brim  with  choice  sprigs  of 
mint  and  presented  the  tall  cup  with  a  courtly  bow  to  the 
nearest  guest. 

However,  Clay  sometimes  served  his  own  guests  with  wine 
instead  of  bourbon.  Gustave  Koerner,  a  young  Bavarian  from 
Belleville,  Illinois,  attending  the  Transylvania  law  school,  and 
another  admirer  of  the  Sage  of  Ashland  walked  out  one  morn- 
ing to  "Mr.  Clay's  place."  "About  a  mile  on  a  fine  turnpike 
road"  they  "came  upon  a  fine  park  in  the  midst  of  which  stood 
a  tolerably  large,  white  mansion-house."  Going  up  to  the  door 
they  "rang  the  bell,  and  a  negro  servant  showed  us  into  a  large, 
semi-oval  room,  richly  furnished,  the  walls  being  decorated 
with  some  fine  portraits  in  oil."  What  attracted  young  Koerner 
first  was  "a  large  set  of  silver  plate,  amongst  which  was  a  very 
large,  finely-chiseled  pitcher  with  an  inscription  on  it,  which 
was  on  a  beautifully  carved  side-board." 

In  a  few  minutes  Clay  came  in.  "A  very  long  frock-coat 
made  him  look  even  taller  than  he  was.  His  face  was  very  long, 
and  his  mouth  uncommonly  large.  He  had  very  light  blue 
eyes  which  he  kept  half  closed  when  he  spoke.  His  hair  was 
thin  and  of  a  reddish  color.  There  was  a  playful  humor  about 
his  lips.  His  appearance  upon  the  whole  was  not  at  first  pre- 
possessing; but  when  you  heard  him  converse,  you  felt  you 
were  under  the  influence  of  a  great  and  good  man." 

Clay  politely  invited  his  guests  to  sit  down,  and  shortly 
thereafter 

a  black  servant  came  in  and  presented  us  on  a  silver  waiter  three 
glasses  of  Madeira  of  an  excellent  quality,  which  we  emptied,  bow- 
ing to  one  another.  ...  Of  course,  Mr.  Clay  showed  that  he  had 
been  living  in  the  best  society  here  and  in  Europe.    He  knew  how 


62  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

to  draw  people  into  conversation  and  to  say  something  pleasant 
to  everyone  without  appearing  to  flatter.  He  took  snuff,  which  is 
quite  uncommon  here  and  handled  his  snuff  box  quite  diplomati- 
cally. Seeing  that  our  eyes  had  been  repeatedly  on  the  exquisite 
silver  plate,  he  showed  us  the  pitcher.  The  inscription  on  it  proved 
that  it  was  a  present  from  some  of  the  South  American  countries 
whose  rights  to  recognition  as  independent  states  when  they  re- 
volted from  Spain,  he  had  so  eloquently  advocated  in  the  halls  of 
the  Senate.32 

Shortly  after  his  visit  to  Clay,  Koerner  wrote  his  fiancee: 

Lexington  is  a  lively,  handsome  city,  built  on  wave-like  hills, 
surrounded  by  beautiful  villas.  The  streets  are  nearly  all  lined  with 
shade  trees.  No  wonder  the  inhabitants  are  very  proud  of  it!  My 
American  guide-book  calls  it  perhaps  the  finest  spot  on  the  globe. 
Of  course,  I  cannot  subscribe  to  this  panegyric.  But,  I  am  quite 
pleased  with  the  place.  It  is  the  richest  city  in  Kentucky  and  hence 
there  is  much  show  and  luxury  here.  I  have  been  in  several  houses 
and  must  confess  that  with  us— in  Frankfort-on-the-Main— the 
wealthiest  people  do  not  live  as  elegantly  and  comfortably.33 

Although  Lexington  by  this  time  had  fallen  far  behind 
Louisville  and  Cincinnati  in  commercial  activity,  she  had  stead- 
fastly maintained  her  position  as  the  center  of  education.  Such 
institutions  as  Transylvania  University,  Lexington  Female  Sem- 
inary, Dr.  Ward's  Academy,  Maguire's  Classical,  Scientific  and 
English  School  for  Male  and  Female  Students,  Mme.  Mentelle's 
Boarding-School  for  Girls,  VanDoren's  Institute  for  Lads  and 
Young  Gentlemen,  the  Protestant  Boarding-School  for  Young 
Ladies,  Mrs.  George  P.  Richardson's  School  for  Little  Misses, 
Cabell's  Dancing-School,  and  Mme.  Blaique's  Dancing-Academy 
were  all  located  within  the  limits  of  the  town  or  its  environs. 

Lexington  was  also  the  social  center  of  the  state,  and  from 
June  to  September  the  taverns,  boardinghouses,  and  private 
residences  were  crowded  with  guests  from  many  states  farther 
south  who  came  to  spend  the  summer  in  the  Bluegrass.  Thus 
the  town  had  incurred  the  envy  of  her  less  popular  neighbors, 
and  it  was  believed  in  many  quarters  that  the  women  of  the 


MARY  ANN  TODD  63 

Bluegrass  were  vain,  haughty  creatures  who  looked  with  dis- 
dain upon  those  not  fortunate  enough  to  have  been  born  in 
or  near  the  "Athens  of  the  West."  Yet  young  James  Speed  of 
Louisville,  later  attorney  general  in  the  cabinet  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  did  not  find  this  true  of  local  society  when  he  came 
to  Lexington  to  enter  Transylvania  University.  "Much  better 
pleased  in  every  respect  than  I  anticipated,"  he  wrote  back 
home,  "and  especially  with  the  ladies  of  Lexington.  Tell  my 
sisters  of  this  and  tell  them  that  all  they  hear  there  of  their 
stiffness  is  altogether  a  bugbear."34 

In  1836  Frances  Todd  went  to  live  with  her  sister,  Eliza- 
beth Edwards,  in  Springfield,  Illinois,  and  her  departure  left 
Mary  the  oldest  daughter  at  home.  She  was  then  almost 
eighteen  years  old,  with  a  plump,  graceful  figure,  though  be- 
low medium  height;  mischievous,  long-lashed  blue  eyes  under 
delicately  arched  brows;  a  broad,  smooth  forehead,  straight 
nose,  and  a  rather  broad  expressive  mouth  that  broke  dimples 
in  her  cheeks  when  she  smiled.35  Brilliant,  vivacious,  impulsive, 
she  possessed  a  charming  personality  marred  only  by  a  transient 
hauteur  and,  without  malice,  a  caustic,  devastating  wit  that 
could  sting  like  a  hornet. 

On  one  occasion,  as  Elizabeth  Humphreys  recalled,  it  was 
both  demeanor  and  tongue  that  nearly  got  her  into  trouble. 

Mary  found  more  difficulty  in  getting  along  smoothly  with  an 
Episcopalian  student  of  Theology  (a  tutor  in  the  family)  than  I 
ever  knew  her  to  have  [wrote  Elizabeth  to  Emilie  Todd  Helm]. 
The  young  man's  manners  were  assuming  and  dictatorial  and  of- 
fensive, but  we  all  tried  to  be  polite.  In  spite  of  Mary's  efforts  to 
be  agreeable,  there  was  nothing  but  discord  between  them— let  her 
do  her  best.  With  an  ill-grounded  and  unjust  suspicion  that  she 
was  trying  on  all  occasions  to  insult  him,  he  waged  a  war  without 
cause. 

It  happened  frequently  that  Mary's  father  would  be  absent  on 
business  &  Aunt  by  reason  of  illness  not  able  to  come  to  the  dining 
room.  One  morning  on  such  an  occasion  Mary  &  I  went  after  the 
bell  was  rung  to  the  breakfast  room.    Presby  came  in  soon.    Mary 


64  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

took  her  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  young  Theologian  at  the 
foot  and  I  on  one  side.  Grace  was  said  with  due  reverence  and  then 
we  commenced  with  keen  appetites  on  the  feast  of  good  things  be- 
fore us.  Among  the  choice  delicacies,  we  had  some  remarkably  fine 
maple  syrup.  Mary  helped  me  and  then  offered  some  to  Mr.  Presby, 
with  the  remark  that  she  had  always  understood  the  Yankees  ate 
molasses  with  everything.  It  was  the  word  "Yankees,"  I  suppose, 
that  raised  the  storm.  He  was  greatly  irritated  and  in  a  real  down 
East  nasal  twang  spoke  with  an  emphasis  to  be  remembered  for  all 
time:  "Miss  'Maree'  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  I  won't  and 
can't  stand.  Miss  Elizabeth  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  has  always 
been  polite,  but,  Miss  'Maree'  never."  The  whole  thing  was  so 
ludicrous  to  Mary,  she  leaned  back  and  laughed  immoderately. 
The  laugh  acted  like  a  charm,  it  was  "oil  upon  the  waters"  and 
we  sailed  the  remainder  of  that  day  on  a  calm  sea.36 

It  was  a  wholesome,  fun-loving  group  of  young  folk  that 
gave  spice  and  gaiety  to  the  staid  old  town  during  the  few  re- 
maining years  that  Mary  made  her  home  in  Lexington.  These 
fair  young  creatures  were,  of  course,  not  lacking  in  the  most 
handsome  and  eligible  beaux.  Gallant  and  romantic,  most  of 
them  members  of  one  of  the  four  local  military  companies, 
accomplished  in  the  exercises  of  the  broadsword  and  the  rapier, 
expert  marksmen  with  both  pistol  and  rifle— still  the  young 
men  of  Mary's  acquaintance  seem  not  to  have  attracted  her, 
and  there  is  not  even  a  tradition  that  her  heart  ever  gave  the 
faintest  little  flutter  in  the  presence  of  any  of  these  scions  of 
the  old,  aristocratic  Bluegrass  families.  "She  accepted  their 
attentions,"  says  Elizabeth,  "but  at  times  her  face  indicated  lack 
of  interest." 

The  ballrooms  of  Mathurin  Giron  offered  Mary  an  oppor- 
tunity to  indulge  in  her  favorite  amusement.  It  was  the  most 
fashionable  of  resorts  for  such  entertainment  in  Kentucky.37 
Giron,  a  unique  character  of  the  town,  had  his  famous  estab- 
lishment on  Mill  Street  in  a  quaint,  two-story  brick  building 
with  Tuscan  pilasters  which  supported  a  balcony  of  iron  lace 
along  the  front  of  the  upper  story.    A  confectionery  occupied 


MARY  ANN  TODD  65 

the  first  floor,  where  Giron's  Swiss  cook,  Dominique  Ritter, 
produced  from  the  mysterious  depths  of  his  ovens  marvelous 
creations  in  pastry,  ripe  fruitcakes,  tall  pyramids  of  meringues, 
and  macaroons  draped  in  filmy,  snow-white  sugar  webbing. 
Here  was  made  the  mammoth  "casellated"  cake  with  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  gloriously  etched  upon  its  sloping  sides  in  red, 
white,  and  blue,  which  the  citizens  of  Lexington  presented  to 
Marquis  de  Lafayette  on  his  visit  to  Kentucky  in  1825.  On 
the  second  floor,  separated  by  a  wide  hall,  were  the  ballrooms 
with  great  paneled  folding  doors  of  polished  cherry  opening 
to  the  high  frescoed  ceiling.  In  each  room  were  vast  fireplaces 
with  mantlepieces  of  the  same  exquisite  wood  supported  by 
graceful  columns.38 

Little  Giron,  fastidiously  dressed,  hardly  more  than  five 
feet  in  height,  and  almost  as  broad  as  he  was  tall,  with  his 
round,  smoothly  shaved  face,  and  his  cordial,  kindly  manner 
had  been  Mary  Todd's  friend  since  her  childhood.  The  con- 
fectionery was  just  around  the  corner  from  her  father's  store 
and  only  a  short  distance  from  Dr.  Ward's  academy.  The 
Frenchman  had  been  attracted  by  the  little  girl's  perfect  ease 
of  manner  and  utter  lack  of  self-consciousness  in  the  presence 
of  adults,  and  amused  by  her  quite  obvious  gift  of  sparkling 
repartee.  Mary  would  frequently  drop  in  on  her  way  home 
from  school  or  as  she  went  to  and  from  the  store  on  Main 
Street,  and  many  were  the  spiced  buns  and  hot  ginger  cakes 
that  he  had  slipped  into  her  lunch  basket  in  the  course  of  their 
conversations.39 

Mary,  now  grown  to  womanhood,  still  occupied  a  niche  all 
her  own  in  the  large  heart  of  Mathurin  Giron.  Their  mutual 
love  for  the  Gallic  language  was  in  itself  an  enduring  bond  be- 
tween them.  At  the  brilliant  suppers  and  balls  that  she  at- 
tended, Giron  hovered  about  Mary  and  her  friends,  voicing 
solicitude  for  their  comfort  and  pleasure  in  his  soft,  piquant, 
broken  English,  and  when  she  addressed  him  in  his  native 
tongue,  his  dark  eyes  glowed  with  ecstasy.40 


66  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

In  the  summer  of  1837  Mary  Todd  went  to  visit  her  sisters, 
Elizabeth  and  Frances,  in  Illinois.  She  had  other  relatives 
there  also:  an  uncle,  Dr.  John  Todd,  and  her  three  lawyer 
cousins:  John  T.  Stuart,  John  J.  Hardin,  and  Stephen  T. 
Logan.  The  visitor  from  the  Bluegrass  had  not  been  long  in 
Springfield  when  she  began  to  hear  about  Stuart's  new  law 
partner.  His  name  was  Abraham  Lincoln.  Both  Stuart  and 
Hardin  had  served  with  him  in  the  Black  Hawk  War.  He  and 
her  brother-in-law,  Ninian  W.  Edwards,  had  been  members 
of  the  celebrated  "Long  Nine,"  who  averaged  more  than  six 
feet  in  height,  from  Sangamon  County  in  the  General  Assembly 
at  Vandalia. 

Lincoln,  she  learned,  was  a  newcomer  in  Springfield  from  a 
village  on  the  Sangamon  River  called  New  Salem  and  had  only 
recently  been  admitted  to  the  bar.  According  to  his  friends 
he  was  a  man  of  strange  contradictions:  fond  of  the  society 
of  women,  but  shy  in  their  presence;  subject  to  fits  of  depres- 
sion, yet  a  storyteller  whose  humor  was  irresistible;  a  shrewd, 
wily  politician,  but  a  man  of  rugged  honesty  and  unswerving 
integrity;  ungainly  in  personal  appearance,  though  possessed 
of  a  simple,  natural  grace  of  manner,  with  a  face  homely  to  a 
marked  degree  in  repose,  but  singularly  charming  when  ani- 
mated; a  man  who  would  fritter  away  hours  in  veritable  non- 
sense with  shallow,  sometimes  tipsy  companions,  yet  a  profound, 
logical  thinker,  a  persuasive  stump  speaker,  a  dangerous  ad- 
versary in  rough  and  tumble  debate.  Mary  Todd's  curiosity 
must  have  been  piqued  at  these  queer  descriptions  of  a  most 
unusual  man,  but  she  did  not  meet  him  once  during  her  three- 
month  visit  in  Springfield.  Her  time  was  quite  fully  occupied 
with  balls,  levees,  and  receptions  given  in  her  honor  by  rela- 
tives and  friends,  and  the  weeks  passed  swiftly. 

As  for  Lincoln,  he  was  then  passing  through  the  loneliest 
period  of  his  life.  Except  for  a  few  political  acquaintances  and 
one  or  two  warm  friends,  he  was  almost  a  penniless  stranger 
in  the  bustling  capital  of  that  new,  growing  country.  But  even 
so,  he  was  not  by  any  means  idle.    Besides  a  droll,  halfhearted 


MARY  ANN  TODD  67 

courtship  with  portly  Mary  Owens,  he  was  also  deeply  absorbed 
in  his  first  important  lawsuit— a  bitter  altercation  with  General 
James  Adams,  a  prominent  local  citizen  and  lawyer.  Lincoln 
boldly  charged  that  his  client,  a  poor  widow,  had  been  defraud- 
ed of  a  valuable  tract  of  land  by  Adams,  who  had  forged  her 
deceased  husband's  name  to  the  deed.  It  was  largely  the  vigor- 
ous prosecution  of  this  case  that  brought  Lincoln  shortly  into 
prominence.41 

In  late  autumn,  1837,  Mary  Todd  returned  home.  The 
relations  that  existed  between  Mary  and  her  stepmother,  par- 
ticularly during  the  years  just  before  she  went  to  live  in  Spring- 
field, and  her  reasons  for  leaving  home  have  long  been  matters 
of  bitter  dispute.  Only  two  sources  of  documentary  evidence 
on  these  mooted  questions  from  persons  then  in  a  position  to 
know  now  exist.  In  the  papers  of  the  suit  brought  to  settle 
the  estate  of  Robert  S.  Todd  in  1849,  George  Todd,  Mary's 
youngest  brother,  referred  to  "the  malignant  and  continued 
attempts  on  the  part  of  his  stepmother,  Mrs.  E.  L.  Todd,  to 
poison  the  mind  of  his  father  towards  him,"  and  asserted  that 
Robert  S.  Todd  was  "mortified  that  his  last  child  by  his  first 
wife  should  be  obliged,  like  all  his  first  children,  to  abandon 
his  house  by  the  relentless  persecution  of  a  stepmother."42    A 

letter,  dated  "May ,  '48,"  written  by  Mary  Lincoln  to  her 

husband,  who  was  then  in  Washington,  speaks  of  "Ma,"  her 
stepmother,  saying:  "She  is  very  obliging  and  accommodating, 
but  if  she  thought  any  of  us  were  on  her  hands  again,  I  believe 
she  would  be  worse  than  ever."43 

These  grave  charges  against  Betsy  Todd  by  her  two  most 
volatile  stepchildren,  considered  carefully  in  connection  with 
the  voluminous  record  of  a  litigation  that  will  be  discussed 
in  subsequent  chapters,  though  taken  at  face  value  are  not 
without  mitigation.  It  must  be  remembered  that  by  the  sum- 
mer of  1839  Mrs.  Todd  in  thirteen  years  had  borne  her  husband 
eight  children.  Seven  were  living,  their  ages  ranging  from 
eleven  years  down  to  an  infant  in  arms,  and  the  ninth  child 


68  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

was  born  two  years  later.  Under  the  existing  circumstances 
it  is  not  surprising  that  the  willful,  impetuous  temperament 
of  Mary  Todd  clashed  sharply  now  and  then  with  the  conven- 
tional ideas  of  her  busy  stepmother.  Moreover,  it  is  extremely 
probable  that  the  attitude  of  Mary's  grandmother,  Mrs.  Parker, 
who  never  quite  forgave  Betsy  Humphreys  for  marrying  the 
husband  of  her  dead  daughter,  had  considerable  influence  in 
fomenting  such  discord  as  there  was  in  the  Todd  household. 

But  whatever  her  situation  may  have  been  at  home,  Mary 
Todd's  last  summer  in  Kentucky  was  well  occupied  with  the 
good  times  of  Lexington's  social  season.  From  the  first  of  June 
to  early  fall  the  town  was  filled  with  wealthy  planters  and  their 
families  who  came  northward  to  avoid  the  sweltering  heat  and 
the  insidious  malaria  of  the  Deep  South.  The  local  newspapers 
left  a  fragmentary  record  of  social  activities  during  their  stay 
in  the  Bluegrass,  and  doubtless  Mary  Todd  had  her  share  in 
all  the  gaiety  and  entertainment. 

So  it  may  be  safely  assumed  that  she  attended  on  a  Septem- 
ber night  in  1839  probably  her  last  public  function  in  the  old 
home  town,  a  "grand  farewell  ball"  given,  as  stated,  by  "the 
elite  of  southern  society  who  have  resorted  in  Lexington  during 
the  past  summer."  The  affair  was  "in  the  hands  of  gentlemen 
&  their  ladies  from  Louisiana,  Texas,  Mississippi,  Arkansas  and 
Alabama."  The  ballrooms  of  Mathurin  Giron  were  never  more 
alluring  than  they  were  that  evening.  The  walls  were  painted 
to  represent  landscapes  of  blooming  orange  trees  set  here  and 
there  in  clustering  tubs.  Chandeliers  and  sconces  were  lighted 
with  innumerable  wax  candles,  yellow  and  green  and  rose. 
Gentlemen  in  blue  broadcloth  coats  with  brass  buttons,  buff 
waistcoats,  and  laced  ruffled  shirts;  ladies  in  white  satins,  with 
ethereal  silk  overdresses  embroidered  in  fantastic  figures,  glided 
over  the  gleaming  maple  floors  through  the  intricate,  graceful 
mazes  of  the  Circassian  Circle  to  the  soft  strains  of  violin  with 
pianoforte  accompaniment.  Couples  with  interesting  things  to 
say  to  each  other  occupied  secluded  benches  along  the  iron 
balcony.    "Rarely,"  said  a  gentleman  who  was  present,  "have 


MARY  ANN  TODD  69 

we  witnessed  so  brilliant  a  display  of  beauty  and  fashion  as 
graced  the  occasion." 

A  month  later,  on  a  crisp  autumn  morning,  the  Todd  car- 
riage drove  up  to  the  trim  little  depot  of  the  Lexington  and 
Ohio  Railroad  at  Mill  and  Water  streets.  On  the  narrow  track 
of  strap-iron  rails  spiked  down  to  sills  of  stone  stood  the  pride 
of  the  Western  Country,  a  tiny  steam  locomotive  called  "The 
Nottaway."  Attached  to  it  was  a  single  coach  with  seats  for  a 
dozen  passengers  inside  and  as  many  more  on  the  top,  which 
was  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing.44  Old  Nelson  handed  "Mis' 
Mary's"  bags  and  boxes  to  the  engineer,  who  placed  them  be- 
side the  other  luggage  on  the  woodpile  at  the  rear  of  the  tender. 
Then,  with  a  lurch  and  a  shrill  toot  of  the  whistle  the  wheezy 
engine  started,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  little  train  was 
rattling  and  swaying  down  Water  Street  and  out  through  the 
brown  hemp  fields  and  somber  meadows.  Mary  Todd  had 
started  on  the  long  journey  to  her  new  home  in  Springfield. 


SIX 


Slavery  in  the 
Bluegrass 


AT  AN  assembly  ball  which  Mary  Todd  attended  shortly 
after  her  arrival  in  Springfield  she  met  the  young  lawyer  about 
whom  she  had  heard  so  much  on  her  former  visit.  The  often 
told  story  of  the  desultory  courtship  that  followed  this  intro- 
duction need  not  be  repeated  again.  It  is  sufficient  to  note 
that  on  Friday  evening,  November  4,  1842,  at  the  home  of  her 
sister,  Mrs.  Ninian  W.  Edwards,  while  the  rain  beat  against 
the  windows  of  the  front  parlor,  Mary  Todd  became  the  wife 
of  Abraham  Lincoln. 

Lincoln  was  now  the  law  partner  of  another  of  his  wife's 
cousins,  Stephen  T.  Logan.  The  senior  member  of  the  firm 
of  Logan  &  Lincoln  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Springfield 
bar,  and  he  was  exactly  the  right  sort  of  a  partner  for  Mr.  A. 
Lincoln.  Logan  carefully  prepared  his  cases;  Lincoln  was  rather 
inclined  to  extemporize.  Logan  was  a  good  collector  and  tight- 
fisted  in  money  matters;  Lincoln  was  utterly  indifferent  to 
material  gain.  With  Logan  every  activity  was  subordinate  to 
his  profession;  Lincoln's  chief  interest  lay  in  the  field  of  politics, 
to  which  the  law  afforded  convenient  access.   Lincoln  had  been 


SLAVERY  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS  71 

taken  into  the  firm  because  of  his  remarkable  ability  as  a  trial 
lawyer,  but  Judge  Logan  was  to  be  disappointed  if  he  hoped 
to  wean  the  junior  partner  away  from  the  dominant  passion 
of  his  life. 

Lincoln  had  already  served  four  terms  in  the  Illinois  legis- 
lature and  at  the  time  of  his  venture  into  matrimony  was  rather 
leisurely  casting  about  for  further  political  preferment.  "Noth- 
ing new  here,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "except  my  marrying, 
which  to  me  is  a  matter  of  profound  wonder."1  He  of  course 
could  not  then  know  that  whatever  might  be  said  of  the  event 
in  other  respects,  he  had  acquired  a  life  partner  who  would 
infuse  his  phlegmatic  temperament  with  a  persevering  energy 
which  henceforth  pushed  him  slowly  but  finally  to  heights  of 
achievement  beyond  ambition's  fondest  dream.2 

One  is  therefore  not  surprised  to  find  the  Springfield  lawyer 
a  few  months  later  writing  to  one  of  his  constituents:  "Now 
if  you  should  hear  anyone  say  that  Lincoln  don't  want  to  go 
to  Congress,  I  wish  you  as  a  personal  friend  of  mine,  would 
tell  him  you  have  reason  to  believe  he  is  mistaken.  The  truth 
is  I  would  like  to  go  very  much."3 

Mary  Todd  was  a  born  politician.  Since  her  earliest  recol- 
lection the  home  of  Robert  S.  Todd  at  Lexington  had  been  a 
favorite  rendezvous  for  the  Whig  chieftains  of  Kentucky.  Mary 
knew  them  all:  Robertson,  Combs,  Morehead,  Letcher,  Meni- 
fee, Buckner,  the  brilliant  Marshall,  the  wise  and  beloved 
Crittenden,  and  still  more  intimately,  the  incomparable  Clay, 
Lincoln's  "beau-ideal  of  a  statesman,"  idol  of  the  Whig  party 
throughout  the  nation.  She  had  heard  these  jurists,  governors, 
members  of  Congress,  ministers  to  foreign  countries,  cabinet 
members,  senators,  and  candidate  for  President  of  the  United 
States  discuss  various  problems  of  statecraft,  not  merely  in 
public  address,  but  around  the  fireside  and  the  julep  table  of 
her  father's  house,  and  she  was  familiar  with  the  important 
issues  of  the  day.4 

The  one  vital  question  that  already  held  Lincoln's  interest 


72  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

was  slavery,  and  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  Mary  Todd 
possessed  more  firsthand  information  on  this  subject  than  any 
other  person  with  whom  he  had  yet  come  in  contact.  On 
March  3,  1837,  Lincoln  had  made  his  now  famous  declaration 
in  the  legislature  at  Vandalia  that  "Slavery  is  founded  on  both 
injustice  and  bad  policy."5  On  July  23,  1841,  in  the  case  of 
Bailey  v.  Cromwell,  the  state  supreme  court  had  sustained  his 
contention  that  the  law  of  Illinois  presumed  all  persons  free, 
regardless  of  color.  In  his  Washington's  Birthday  address  Feb- 
ruary 22,  1842,  Lincoln  had  invoked  the  day  when  there  would 
not  be  a  slave  on  earth.0 

Yet,  profoundly  concerned  as  he  was  with  this  grave  problem 
then  beginning  to  agitate  the  whole  country,  Lincoln's  knowl- 
edge of  the  Southland's  "peculiar  institution"  was  hardly  more 
than  superficial.  He  "saw  almost  nothing  of  slavery  in  his  own 
childhood."7  And  in  his  eighth  year  he  moved  to  Indiana,  a 
part  of  the  Northwest  Territory,  where  slavery  was  prohibited 
by  the  Ordinance  of  1787. 

At  the  time  of  his  marriage  Lincoln's  personal  knowledge 
of  slavery  in  the  South  was  derived  almost  entirely  from  having 
seen  a  slave  sold  at  New  Orleans  in  1831  and  from  his  visit  to 
the  Speed  plantation  in  Kentucky  ten  years  later.  On  the  other 
hand,  Mary  Todd  had  been  reared  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
largest  slaveholding  community  in  Kentucky.  There,  unlike 
the  Deep  South,  the  form  of  servitude  was  more  patriarchal 
than  otherwise.  The  Negro  quarters,  mostly  of  hewn  logs  but 
sometimes  of  brick  or  stone,  were  grouped  near  the  mansion 
house.  Each  cabin  had  its  "truck  patch"  filled  with  sweet  po- 
tatoes and  other  succulent  vegetables  and  several  long  rows  of 
watermelons  and  tobacco.  Stands  of  bees  furnished  golden 
honey  for  "ole  Mammy's"  flapjacks,  while  long-eared  coon  and 
possum  dogs  romped  with  pickaninnies  and,  often,  with  the 
white  children  around  the  cabin  doors.  "Missis"  or  "Mastah," 
sitting  at  the  bedside  of  a  sick  slave,  was  not  an  uncommon 
sight.  Nowhere  did  the  yoke  of  bondage  rest  more  lightly  than 
on  the  servants  in  the  household  of  Robert  S.  Todd.    Chaney 


SLAVERY  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS  73 

was  in  undisputed  control  of  the  kitchen,  pompous  old  Nelson 
ruled  the  stables  with  a  high  hand,  and  black  Mammy  Sally, 
despot  of  the  nursery,  gave  orders  to  the  little  Todds  which 
even  their  mother  did  not  dare  revoke. 

But  Lincoln's  wife  was  also  familiar  with  the  other  side  of 
the  picture.  In  the  southwest  corner  of  the  public  square  at 
Lexington  stood  the  auction  block,  rickety  and  worn  from 
many  shuffling  feet,  while  near  the  northeast  corner  was  the 
whipping  post  of  "black  locust  one  foot  in  diameter,  ten  feet 
high  and  sunk  two  and  a  half  feet  in  the  ground."8  A  visitor 
to  the  town  in  those  early  days,  witnessing  the  use  of  this  in- 
strument of  torture,  observed  in  his  journal  that  the  public 
square  was  "occasionally  the  scene  of  a  barbarous  practice;  for 
it  is  here  that  incorrigible  or  delinquent  negroes  are  flogged 
unmercifully.  I  saw  this  punishment  inflicted  on  two  of  these 
wretches.  Their  screams  soon  collected  a  numerous  crowd— I 
could  not  help  saying  to  myself,  'These  cries  are  the  knell  of 
Kentucky  liberty.'  "9 

During  all  the  years  that  Mary  Todd  lived  on  Main  Street 
frequent  gangs  of  Negroes  were  driven  by  traders  over  this 
thoroughfare  en  route  to  the  slave  markets  of  the  South.  The 
Todd  residence  stood  close  to  the  street,  separated  from  it  only 
by  the  width  of  the  sidewalk.  Mary  from  her  fourteenth  year 
watched  these  unhappy  creatures— men,  women,  and  children, 
manacled  two  abreast,  connected  by  heavy  iron  chains  that  ex- 
tended the  whole  length  of  the  line— as  they  plodded  wearily 
past  her  door  on  their  long  march  to  the  cotton  fields  of 
Georgia  or  the  rice  plantations  of  torrid  Louisiana.10 

That  Mary  and  her  cousin,  Elizabeth  Humphreys,  were 
much  distressed  by  these  pathetic  scenes  is  a  matter  of  record, 
and  each  occurrence  planted  the  conviction  more  deeply  in 
their  young  hearts  that  slavery  was  a  monstrous  wrong.11  Oc- 
casionally some  skulking  wretch  on  his  way  to  the  Ohio  River 
and  freedom  would  creep  up  to  the  friendly  back  doors  in 
Lexington  for  a  bite  of  food.  A  mark  on  the  fence  in  the  alley 
at  the  rear  of  the  Todd  home  indicated  that  "vittles"  could 


74  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

be  had  there,  and  many  were  the  runaways  fed  by  old  Mammy 
Sally  with  the  help  of  Mary  and  her  cousin.12 

One  day  Mary  and  Elizabeth  read  in  a  New  Orleans  news- 
paper of  the  outrages  perpetrated  by  a  Mme.  LaLaurie  on  her 
slaves.  "We  were  horrified,"  said  her  cousin,  "and  talked  of 
nothing  else  for  days.  If  one  such  case  could  happen,  it  damned 
the  whole  institution."13  And  if  Mary  Todd  was  affected  by 
brutality  to  slaves  in  distant  Louisiana,  it  is  not  difficult  to 
imagine  the  indelible  impressions  made  upon  her  by  similar 
occurrences  that  later  took  place  in  the  vicinity  of  her  own 
home. 

Fielding  L.  Turner,  a  wealthy  retired  jurist,  and  his  wife 
Caroline,  member  of  a  prominent  Boston  family,  lived  only 
a  short  distance  from  the  Todds.14  They  kept  a  pretentious 
establishment  and  owned  probably  more  house  servants  than 
any  other  family  in  the  city.  Mrs.  Turner,  a  large  muscular 
woman  with  an  ungovernable  temper,  frequently  whipped  her 
slaves  with  such  violence  that  Judge  Turner  himself  said:  "She 
has  been  the  immediate  cause  of  the  death  of  six  of  my  servants 
by  her  severities."15  Her  conduct  had  already  become  a  public 
scandal,  when  one  day  in  the  early  spring  of  1837  Mrs.  Turner 
deliberately  threw  a  small  black  boy  out  of  a  second-story  win- 
dow onto  the  stone  flagging  of  the  courtyard  below,  injuring 
his  spine,  breaking  an  arm  and  a  leg,  and  making  him  a  cripple 
for  life. 

The  wanton  cruelty  of  this  incident  intensely  aroused  the 
whole  community,  and  in  order  to  save  his  wife  from  threat- 
ened criminal  prosecution,  as  well  as  for  the  protection  of  his 
other  slaves,  Judge  Turner  had  her  forcibly  removed  from 
their  home  to  the  lunatic  asylum  where  after  a  confinement 
of  several  days  Mrs.  Turner  demanded  a  trial  on  the  question 
of  her  sanity.  On  March  31,  1837,  a  jury  composed  of  Robert 
S.  Todd  and  eleven  other  citizens  was  impaneled  in  the  Fayette 
Circuit  Court  and  "sworn  well  and  truly  to  inquire  into  the 
state  of  mind  of  Caroline  A.  Turner."    Before  the  trial  began, 


GREAT  SALE 

SLAVES 


T 


n.~ 


JANUARY  10,   1855 


'HERE  \Hf!f  Be  Offered  For  Safe  at  Public  AucUon  st  the   SLAVE  MARKET.  CH£APSi>$ 
LEXINGTON.  AT  The  SLAVES   of  JOHN  CARTCR.  E»quire.  of  LEWli  COUNTY,  K\ 
On  Account  of  His  Removal  to  Indiana,  a  FreaState.      The    Slavrt    L»*ted   Bek>*    Wi    ■ 
At!  R*i*«d  on  the  CARTER  PLANTATION  at  QUICK  3  Rt'N.  L««isCou*t>.  Ker ...... 


3  Bucks  Aged  from  20  to  26,  Strong,  Ablebodied 

1  WetlCh,  Sallie,  Aged  42,  Excellent  Cook 

1  Wench ,  Lize,  Aged  23  with  6  mo.  old  Picinniny 

One  Buck  Aged  52,  good  Kennel  Man 

■  7  Bucks  Aged  from  twelve  to  twenty,  Excellent 


■I'M1,  (  ASH 


a!*,  »»  i*r.tr  mutt  realize  ca*h,  oh  in g.  to  h»*    nmc* 

>t*r?**ned  previous  to  tale  by  addre*nng  the  under* 


JOItX   €/IRICRvEm|. 

!»«».  €  iati  U»l.«t  a  1  ,.»%  i+  40|,|il>,   i*«»ttttf«  I** 

Sale  of  "bucks"  and  "wenches"  on  Cheapside 
Facsimile  in  the  Coleman  Collection 


Slave  cabins  in  the  Bluegrass.    Coleman  Collation 


SLAVERY  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS  75 

however,  the  court  received  information  that  the  commissioners 
of  the  asylum,  finding  no  evidence  of  mental  derangement  in 
the  defendant,  had  already  released  her  from  custody,  and  the 
jury  was  thereupon  discharged  and  the  matter  dropped.16 

During  the  early  part  of  Mary  Todd's  last  year  in  Kentucky 
her  neighbors,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maxwell,  were  tried  on  a  charge 
of  "atrocious  brutality"  to  a  young  female  slave.  The  indig- 
nation of  the  citizens  of  Lexington  is  apparent  from  the  pub- 
licity that  was  given  to  the  proceedings.  Dr.  Constant  testified 
that  one  cold  morning  he  saw  Mrs.  Maxwell  severely  whipping 
a  barefooted,  thinly  clad  Negro  girl  "without  being  particular 
whether  she  struck  her  in  the  face  or  not."  She  was  bleeding 
profusely  from  cuts  and  lacerations  on  the  head  and  body.  A 
month  or  so  previous  the  witness  noticed  several  scars  on  the 
girl's  face,  and  she  had  kept  an  eye  tied  up  for  a  week.  Another 
witness,  passing  along  the  street,  had  seen  a  son  of  the  Max- 
wells flogging  this  slave  with  a  cowhide.  The  girl  was  cringing 
before  the  blows  that  fell  upon  her  frail  shoulders  and  begged 
piteously  for  mercy,  but  when  she  turned  her  face  toward 
young  Maxwell,  he  would  strike  her  squarely  across  the  nose 
and  cheeks,  sometimes  with  the  keen  lash  and  again  with  the 
heavy  butt  of  the  whip.  A  medical  examination  at  the  time 
of  the  trial  revealed  bruises,  lacerations,  and  the  searing  marks 
of  a  red-hot  iron  on  her  emaciated  body.17 

However,  the  tragedy  of  the  slave  lay  far  deeper  than  mere 
mistreatment.  Its  dark,  sinister  shadow  fell  across  the  threshold 
of  homes  where  the  slave  might  even  be  the  head  of  the  house- 
hold and  her  children  the  acknowledged  flesh  and  blood  of 
the  master. 

Mary  Todd  could  not  remember  when  she  did  not  know 
Richard  M.  Johnson,  owner  of  "Blue  Springs,"  a  large,  fertile 
plantation  in  the  adjoining  county  of  Scott.  Hero  of  the  Battle 
of  the  Thames,  widely  acclaimed  as  the  slayer  of  the  noted 
Indian  chief  Tecumseh,  senior  United  States  senator  from  Ken- 


76  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

tucky,  "Dick"  Johnson  was  for  years  a  welcome  visitor  in  the 
Todd  home  on  Short  Street.  Even  after  his  break  with  Henry 
Clay— although  he  never  came  to  the  Main  Street  residence  and 
the  intimacy  was  never  as  close  as  before— Johnson  and  Robert 
S.  Todd  remained  good  personal  friends. 

A  sturdily  built  man,  slightly  under  medium  height,  with 
a  shock  of  unruly  hair  prematurely  gray,  noticeably  lame  from 
the  five  wounds  he  had  received  while  leading  his  mounted 
Kentuckians  in  the  furious  charge  that  routed  Proctor's  British 
Regulars  and  his  savage  allies,  careless  of  dress  and  invariably 
wearing  his  beloved  red  waistcoat,  "Old  Tecumseh"  was  a  prime 
favorite  in  the  drawing  rooms  of  Dolly  Madison  at  the  White 
House  and  moved  in  the  most  select  circles  of  Capital  society 
during  his  entire  public  life.  A  celebrated  Washington  hostess 
once  described  him  as  "the  most  tender-hearted,  mild,  affec- 
tionate and  benevolent  of  men."18 

Colonel  Johnson  never  married,  but  in  early  manhood  he 
took  for  his  mistress  an  attractive  octoroon  slave  girl,  Julia 
Chinn,  one  of  the  chattels  which  had  come  to  him  in  the  set- 
tlement of  his  father's  estate.  Julia  was  in  complete  charge  of 
all  the  domestic  concerns  of  "Blue  Springs"  and  was  the  mother 
of  his  two  handsome  daughters,  Imogene  and  Adaline,  who 
bore  such  slight  evidence  of  Negro  blood  that,  as  their  tutor 
observed,  "a  stranger  would  not  suspect  them  of  being  what 
they  really  are— the  children  of  a  colored  woman." 

Deeply  religious  and  like  their  mother  members  of  the 
Great  Crossings  Baptist  Church,  they  were  as  carefully  and 
tenderly  reared  and  their  paternity  as  unconcealed  as  the  most 
gently  nurtured  belle  of  the  Bluegrass.  Thomas  Henderson, 
a  young  scholarly  minister,  superintendent  of  Choctaw  Acad- 
emy, an  Indian  school  established  by  Colonel  Johnson  on  his 
Great  Crossings  farm,  had  charge  of  their  education. 

"I  soon  discovered,"  he  later  wrote,  "such  uncommon  apt- 
ness in  these  two  girls  to  take  learning,  and  so  much  decent, 
modest  and  unassuming  conduct  on  their  part,  that  my  mind 
became  much  enlisted  in  their  favor."19 


SLAVERY  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS  77 

When  General  Lafayette  visited  Kentucky  in  1825,  he  went 
out  of  his  way  to  pay  his  respects  to  Colonel  Johnson  and  spent 
a  night  as  his  guest  at  "Blue  Springs."  A  young  farm  boy  of 
the  neighborhood,  Ebenezer  Stedman,  has  left  a  brief,  colorful 
record  of  all  he  saw  on  that  memorable  afternoon  when  he 
went  with  the  "Imence  croud  of  People  to  the  Blew  Spring, 
the  Residence  of  Richard  M.  Johnson.  Such  a  gethering  of  the 
People.  He  had  cannon  at  the  Spring  &  Commenced  firing 
Long  Before  we  Reached  there.  Evry  thing  that  was  necsary 
for  the  occasion  was  prepared  in  fine  order.  Johnsons  Two 
Daughters  they  Played  on  the  piano  fine.  They  Ware  Dressed 
as  fine  as  money  Could  Dress  them  &  to  one  that  Did  not  no 
they  ware  as  white  as  anny  of  the  Laydes  thare  &  thare  ware 
a  good  many."20 

Of  course,  it  was  inevitable  that  the  domestic  life  of  Colonel 
Johnson  should  become  a  sordid  issue  in  the  vicious  politics 
and  gangrenous  journalism  of  that  era. 

On  November  29,  1832,  the  Lexington  Observer  &  Re- 
porter, chief  organ  of  the  Wrhig  party  in  the  West,  carried  under 
bold  headlines  "marriage  extraordinary,"  a  lurid  account  of 
the  recent  wedding  between  a  "white  man"  and  the  "fair  and 
lovely"  Adaline  Johnson,  a  "mulatto  girl  reputed  and  ac- 
knowledged daughter  of  the  Honorable  Richard  M.  Johnson." 
"This  is  the  second  time,"  declared  the  Observer  &  Reporter, 
"that  the  moral  feelings  of  that  part  of  the  people  of  Scott 
County,  who  possess  such  feelings,  have  been  shocked  and  out- 
raged by  the  marriage  of  a  mulatto  daughter  of  Col.  Johnson 
to  a  white  man,  if  a  man  who  will  so  far  degrade  himself,  who 
will  make  himself  an  object  of  scorn  and  detestation  to  every 
person  who  has  the  least  regard  for  decency,  can  be  considered 
a  man." 

Henceforth  until  his  election  as  Vice-President  in  1836, 
and  so  long,  in  fact,  as  Colonel  Johnson  held  political  office, 
the  Whigs  would  center  their  fire  on  his  octoroon  mistress  and 
his  daughters.  When  the  Trenton,  New  Jersey,  Emporium 
concluded  a  eulogistic  editorial  on  Johnson  with  the  rhetorical 


78  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

query:  "What  hand,  when  he  dies,  will  be  worthy  to  write  his 
epitaph?"  the  Kentucky  Tribune  of  Danville  replied:  "If  he 
expires  in  his  wife's  gentle  embrace,  we  will  try  our  own  hand 
at  the  epitaph— thus:    'Died  in  the  Wool'."21 

When  on  one  occasion  the  Jacksonian  press  reminded  the 
Whigs  that  similar  attacks  had  been  made  upon  "the  great  and 
good  Jefferson,"  the  Louisville  Journal  quickly  pointed  out  a 
sharp  distinction.  "Like  other  men,"  said  editor  George  D. 
Prentice,  "the  author  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  had 
his  faults,  but  he  was,  at  least,  careful  never  to  insult  the  feel- 
ings of  the  community  with  an  ostentatious  exhibition  of  them. 
He  never  lived  in  open  intercourse  with  an  'odoriferous  wench'; 
He  never  bribed  'his  white  fellow  citizens'  to  'make  such  beasts 
of  themselves'  before  the  open  eyes  of  the  whole  world  as  to 
stand  up  in  the  church,  grasp  the  sable  paws  of  negresses  and 
pronounce  the  sacred  vows  of  wedlock." 

Then  the  indignant  Prentice— who  was  not  above  a  little 
quiet  "blood  pollution"  himself,  having  been  accused  more 
than  once  of  "disowning  his  own"— closed  his  diatribe  by  say- 
ing: "If  Col.  Johnson  had  the  decency  and  decorum  to  seek 
to  hide  his  ignominy  from  the  world,  we  would  refrain  from 
lifting  the  curtain.  His  chief  sin  against  society  is  the  publicity 
and  barefacedness  of  his  conduct,  he  scorns  all  secrecy,  all  con- 
cealment, all  disguise."22 

However,  "secrecy"  or  "disguise"  was  not  a  part  of  "Old 
Tecumseh's"  nature.  Subjected  to  the  foulest  scurrility  for 
acknowledging  the  paternity  of  "mulatto  bastards,"  taunted  and 
reviled  because  he  had  affection tely  reared  these  "mongrel 
daughters,"  giving  them  an  education  "equal  or  superior  to 
most  females  in  the  country"— though,  as  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Henderson  declared,  "no  attempt  has  ever  been  made  to  im- 
pose them  on  society"— he  seemed  outwardly  oblivious  to  the 
flood  of  vilification  and  personal  abuse  that  swirled  about  his 
snow-thatched  head.  Calmly  he  went  his  way  without  retort 
or  comment  of  any  kind. 

But  the  abuse  broke  Adaline's  heart,  and  when  she  died 
on  the  eve  of  her  famous  father's  election  to  the  second  highest 


SLAVERY  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS  79 

office  within  the  gift  of  his  countrymen,  Colonel  Johnson  sadly 
wrote  Henderson  from  Washington: 

I  thank  you  &  all  who  administered  to  that  lovely  and  innocent 
child  in  her  final  and  awful  hour.  She  was  a  source  of  inexhaustible 
happiness  and  comfort  to  me.  She  was  mild  and  prudent.  She  was 
wise  in  her  counsel  beyond  her  years  Sc  obedient  to  every  thought 
&  every  advice  of  mine.  In  her  whole  life  I  do  not  recall  that  she 
ever  did  an  act  that  ever  ruffled  my  temper.  She  was  a  firm  8c  great 
prop  to  my  happiness  here— but  she  is  gone  where  sorrow  8c  sighing 
can  never  disturb  her  peaceful  &  quiet  bosom.  She  is  happy,  and 
has  left  me  unhappy  in  mourning  her  loss,  which  perhaps  1  ought 
not  to  do;  knowing  what  a  happy  change  she  has  made.23 

It  was  such  experiences  as  these  that  made  Mary  Todd 
thoroughly  familiar  with  every  aspect  of  slavery.  Moreover, 
for  ten  years  before  coming  to  Springfield  she  had  lived  in  the 
very  midst  of  bitter  controversy  on  the  subject.  As  we  have 
seen  in  a  previous  chapter,  Robert  Wickliffe  was  the  leader  of 
the  radical  proslavery  faction,  while  two  of  her  father's  per- 
sonal and  political  friends,  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  and  Cassius 
M.  Clay,  were  spokesmen  for  those  who  favored  emancipation. 
The  ashen  face  of  poor  Charlie  Wickliffe— Fayette  County's 
earliest  victim  of  this  tragic  strife— would  never  be  blotted  from 
her  memory. 

In  the  spring  of  1830  a  series  of  strong  antislavery  articles 
signed  "B"  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the  Reporter.2*  They 
came  from  Breckinridge's  brilliant  pen  and  excited  such  violent 
discussion  that  two  months  later  he  was  forced  to  withdraw  as 
a  candidate  for  the  legislature  and  to  retire  from  politics  at 
the  early  age  of  thirty.25  But  his  efforts  had  not  been  altogether 
in  vain,  for  on  September  6,  1831,  a  few  slaveholders  met  in 
Lexington  and  formed  a  society  pledged  to  the  emancipation 
of  the  future  offspring  of  slaves  at  the  age  of  twenty-one.26  This 
action,  coming  as  it  had  from  slaveholders  themselves,  threw 
the  whole  community  into  a  turmoil  such  as  had  never  been 
known  before.  Proslavery  leaders  pictured  to  the  alarmed  pop- 
ulace the  hideous  specter  of  a  servile  insurrection,  while  the 
emancipationists  contended  that  all  the  furor  was  but  a  thinly 


80  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

veiled  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  slavocracy  to  suppress  public 
discussion  and  a  flimsy  excuse  for  the  infliction  of  a  more  galling 
discipline  on  the  Negroes. 

As  bitterness,  suspicion,  charges,  and  recrimination  in- 
creased, the  Lexington  jails  were  filled  with  slaves  indicted  for 
various  offenses:  murder,  rape,  arson,  burglary— all  punishable 
by  death.  For  fifteen  years  prior  to  1831  no  Negro  had  been 
executed  in  Fayette  County,  but  now  excited  juries,  swayed 
by  the  passion  and  prejudice  of  the  hour,  inflicted  the  extreme 
penalty  with  terrifying  frequency.  On  August  13,  1831,  four 
slaves  convicted  of  separate  offenses  were  hanged  from  the  same 
scaffold  in  the  yard  of  Megowan's  jail.27 

Finally,  however,  out  of  this  social  travail  had  come  the 
Nonimportation  Act,  passed  by  the  General  Assembly  of  Ken- 
tucky in  1833  after  nearly  five  years  of  bloodshed.  This  law 
prohibiting  slaves  from  being  brought  into  the  state  for  pur- 
poses of  sale,28  with  severe  penalties  for  its  violation,  dealt  a 
heavy  blow  to  the  slave  trade.  Its  passage  was  a  signal  victory 
for  the  friends  of  gradual  emancipation.  Yet  at  the  same  time 
it  rang  the  death  knell  to  peace  in  Kentucky  for  many  a  day 
on  the  subject  of  slavery.  Henceforth  the  proslavery  element, 
always  led  by  Robert  Wickliffe,  waged  unceasing  warfare  against 
what  they  contemptuously  called  the  "Negro  Law."  Time 
after  time,  bills  for  its  repeal  would  be  presented  to  the  legis- 
lature and  sometimes  passed  by  the  Senate,  only  to  be  regularly 
defeated  in  the  House. 

So  it  was  that  the  woman  who  married  Lincoln  through 
her  girlhood  experiences  in  Lexington  was  peculiarly  fitted  to 
share  in  the  great  task  which  would  make  her  husband  im- 
mortal. She  had  been  taught  every  phase  of  the  great  question, 
which  finally  came  to  be  nearest  his  heart,  by  the  very  man 
whom  her  husband  regarded  with  the  most  profound  admira- 
tion. She  knew  what  Lincoln  himself  probably  did  not  then 
know:  that  frequent  maltreatment  and  even  gross  brutality 
was  an  inseparable  part  of  the  institution  of  slavery,  even  where 
it  existed  in  the  mildest  form. 


SEVEN 


Grist  to  the 
Mill 


jIVLANY  persons  who  knew  Abraham  Lincoln  intimately  have 
borne  testimony  to  his  fondness  for  newspapers.  One  authority 
has  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  they  were  the  "most  potent  in- 
fluence that  ever  came  into  Lincoln's  life  in  Illinois."1  Lincoln's 
habit  of  reading  newspapers  had  been  acquired  back  in  the 
early  days  when  he  kept  the  post  office  at  New  Salem.  Patrons 
were  often  slow  in  calling  for  their  mail,  and  the  postmaster 
entertained  himself  with  the  Louisville  Journal  and  other  pub- 
lications that  came  to  the  office.  After  Lincoln  went  to  Spring- 
field, local  newspapers  were  available  at  his  law  office,  and 
regularly  he  read  others  on  the  exchange  table  of  his  friend, 
Simeon  Francis,  editor  of  the  Sangamo  Journal. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  his  marriage  to  Mary  Todd  that 
Lincoln  had  regular  access  to  a  southern  journal.  The  news- 
paper that  then  began  coming  to  the  Lincoln  residence  was  the 
Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  published  semiweekly  in  his 
wife's  home  town.2  The  politics  of  the  Observer  suited  the 
Lincolns  exactly.  It  was  an  uncompromising  Whig,  a  stanch 
supporter  of  Henry  Clay,  and  a  friend  of  Robert  S.  Todd. 


82  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Gallant  Harry  of  the  West  was  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States,  and  Todd,  having  served  more  than  twenty  years  as 
clerk  of  the  Kentucky  House  of  Representatives,  was  now  a 
member  of  that  body  from  Fayette  County. 

Henry  Clay  had  been  Lincoln's  idol  since  boyhood.3  A 
biography  of  the  Kentucky  statesman  was  one  of  the  few  books 
that  he  had  read  back  in  Indiana.  He  had  studied  Clay's 
speeches4  and  was  in  complete  accord  with  his  views  on  in- 
ternal improvements,  the  tariff,  slavery,  and  other  public  ques- 
tions of  the  day.  Only  a  few  weeks  before  his  marriage  Lincoln, 
as  a  member  of  the  executive  committee  of  the  local  "Clay 
Club,"  had  extended  an  urgent  invitation  to  the  Sage  of  Ash- 
land to  visit  Springfield.5  The  Observer  was  as  completely  de- 
voted to  politics  as  any  newspaper  ever  printed,  and  Lincoln 
now  had  an  opportunity  to  follow  the  most  minute  activities 
of  the  great  Whig  leader. 

Lincoln  was  also  interested  in  the  personal  and  political 
fortunes  of  his  father-in-law.  In  the  autumn  of  1843  Todd  had 
visited  Springfield,  where  for  the  first  time  he  met  the  tall, 
angular  husband  of  his  daughter  Mary.  Lincoln  had  found  him 
a  kindly,  genial  man  much  concerned  over  the  welfare  of  his 
children  and  their  families.  On  that  occasion  Todd  had  as- 
signed to  his  son-in-law  several  claims  which  merchants  in  Illi- 
nois owed  him  for  cotton  goods  furnished  them  from  his  factory 
at  Lexington.  He  had  also  given  Mrs.  Lincoln  eighty  acres  of 
land  near  Springfield  and  had  arranged  to  provide  Mary  and 
her  husband  cash  advancements  of  $120  per  annum,  which 
continued  until  Lincoln  was  firmly  established  in  his  law 
practice.6 

Mary  was  fond  of  reading  aloud,  and  many  were  the  eve- 
nings she  read  the  stirring  events  in  the  "home"  paper  while 
Lincoln  listened  soberly,  his  chair  tipped  back  against  the  chim- 
ney jamb  in  the  living  room,  his  feet  encased  in  huge,  black  vel- 
vet carpet  slippers  on  the  vamps  of  which  Mary  had  painstaking- 
ly embroidered  "A.L."7  Slavery  agitation  was  raging  fiercely  in 
Kentucky,  with  Lexington  as  the  storm  center.    Robert  Wick- 


GRIST  TO   THE  MILL  83 

liffe  and  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  not  only  opponents  on  the 
slavery  question  but  bitter  personal  enemies,  were  engaged  in 
a  series  of  vitriolic  debates  on  the  Negro  Law,  which  appeared 
in  the  columns  of  the  Observer.  The  speeches  of  Breckinridge 
were  being  published  in  pamphlet  form  at  the  expense  of  Henry 
Clay,  Robert  S.  Todd,  and  other  friends,  and  widely  distributed 
from  Todd's  store  in  Lexington.8  Mary's  husband  must  have 
enjoyed  the  terse,  scintillating  eloquence  of  Breckinridge,  whose 
declaration  that  "the  highest  of  all  rights  is  the  right  of  a  man 
to  himself"  now  sounds  so  strikingly  Lincolnian. 

The  Old  Duke's  son,  Robert  Wickliffe,  Jr.,  was  a  candidate 
for  Congress  against  Garret  Davis,  who  was  being  warmly  sup- 
ported by  Robert  S.  Todd,  Henry  Clay  and  his  cousin,  Cassius 
M.  Clay,  and  other  stanch  Whigs  of  Lexington. 

Young  Wickliffe  and  "Cash"  Clay  had  shortly  before  fought 
a  duel,  exchanging  shots  without  effect,  and  had,  as  Clay  said, 
"left  the  ground  enemies  as  we  came." 

At  the  beginning  of  his  speeches  Wickliffe  would  read  a 
letter  purporting  to  quote  the  statement  of  a  Woodford  County 
citizen  which  reflected  upon  his  opponent,  without  informing 
his  audience  that  the  person  quoted  had  issued  a  handbill  in 
emphatic  denial.  On  several  occasions  Clay,  in  the  absence  of 
Wickliffe's  opponent,  had  interrupted  Wickliffe  and  called  at- 
tention to  the  unmentioned  handbill.  After  this  had  happened 
a  few  times,  Wickliffe  sent  for  his  relative,  Samuel  M.  Brown, 
a  post-office  agent,  who  then  lived  or  had  his  office  in  New 
Orleans.  Brown  was  a  fearless,  quick-tempered,  dangerous  man 
of  great  physical  strength— overbearing  in  politics— and  reputed 
to  have  had  "40  fights  and  never  lost  a  battle." 

Following  receipt  of  his  kinsman's  appeal  for  help,  Brown 
was  soon  on  the  ground  and  in  secret  conference  with  certain 
members  of  the  Wickliffe  clan  at  the  Dudley  House.  It  was 
agreed  that  if  Clay  interrupted  the  speaking  next  day  at  a  bar- 
becue near  a  large  spring  that  emerged  from  a  limestone  cavern 
called  Russell's  Cave,  Brown  would  lead  an  attack  upon  him 
with  "a  crowd  of  desperate  bullies,"  already  alerted.    Armed 


84  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

with  a  "six-barrelled"  pistol,  he  declared  as  he  left  the  lobby 
of  the  Dudley  House  that  if  Clay  opened  his  mouth  at  the 
barbecue,  he  "would  blow  his  damned  brains  out." 

Wickliffe  began  his  speech  at  three  o'clock.  Again  he  re- 
peated the  controverted  statement,  and  again  Clay,  standing 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  interrupted,  citing  Captain  Jesse's 
denial. 

"Sir,"  exclaimed  Brown  in  menacing  tones,  "that  is  not 
true.    Capt.  Jesse  said  no  such  thing." 

"You  lie,"  Clay  retorted. 

"You  are  a  damned  liar,"  shouted  Brown,  rushing  Clay 
from  the  front,  while  a  gang  of  "roughs"  seized  him  from  be- 
hind, mauling  him  severely.  Someone  struck  him  a  heavy  blow 
on  the  head  with  a  club,  numbing  an  arm  and  dazing  him 
momentarily.  "Clear  the  way  and  let  me  kill  the  damn  rascal," 
ordered  Brown. 

The  crowd  fell  back.  Clay  found  himself  in  an  open  space- 
Brown  standing  some  fifteen  feet  away  with  his  "six-barrelled" 
pistol  leveled  at  his  breast. 

Forced  to  "run  or  be  shot,"  Cash  chose  not  to  run.  Drawing 
his  bowie  knife,  he  turned  his  left  side  with  his  left  arm  cov- 
ering it  so  as  to  present  as  "thin  a  target"  as  possible  and  ad- 
vanced upon  his  adversary.  Brown  waited  until  his  intended 
victim  was  almost  within  arm's  reach  and  then  fired.  Distinctly 
feeling  the  "shock  of  the  ball  just  under  the  left  rib"  and 
realizing  that  he  could  be  shot  five  more  times  in  quick  suc- 
cession, Clay  "closed  on"  Brown  before  he  could  shoot  again 
and  "cut  away  in  good  earnest"  with  fierce  thrusts  of  his  knife 
that  laid  his  enemy's  skull  open  to  the  brain,  cut  off  an  ear,  and 
dug  out  an  eye.  In  another  instant  the  proud  hero  of  "40  fights" 
was  thrown  over  a  low  stone  wall  and  rolled  ignominiously 
down  the  bluff  into  the  dark  waters  of  Russell's  Cave.9 

Clay  was  immediately  rushed  by  his  friends  into  a  nearby 
house  and  stripped  to  the  waist  in  search  of  his  wounds.  To 
their  amazement  it  was  discovered  that  the  ball  from  Brown's 
pistol  had  struck  the  silver-lined  scabbard  of  the  bowie  knife 


GRIST  TO   THE  MILL  85 

and,   being  deflected,   had  lodged  harmlessly   in  the   back  of 
Clay's  coat,  leaving  only  a  red  spot  just  over  the  heart.10 

At  the  next  term  of  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court,  Cassius  M. 
Clay  appeared  in  response  to  an  indictment  which  charged  him 
with  assaulting  Samuel  M.  Brown  with  intent  to  kill  and  "being 
arraigned,  plead  not  guilty,  and  for  his  trial  put  himself  upon 
God  and  his  country."11  The  case  had  attracted  no  little  ex- 
citement throughout  Kentucky  because  of  the  connection  of 
its  participants  with  the  slavery  controversy,  and  the  Lincolns 
doubtless  felt  more  than  a  casual  interest  in  the  accounts  of 
the  trial  which  filled  the  columns  of  the  Observer.  Henry  Clay 
had  emerged  from  retirement  as  a  criminal  lawyer  to  defend 
his  kinsman,  who  was  also  represented  by  his  brother-in-law, 
John  Speed  Smith,  an  uncle  of  Joshua  Speed,  Lincoln's  early 
and  most  intimate  friend.  Robert  S.  Todd  and  Deputy  Sheriff 
Waller  Rodes,  Mrs.  Lincoln's  cousin,  were  witnesses  for  the 
defense. 

It  was  the  theory  of  the  prosecution  that  Clay  and  his  anti- 
slavery  Whig  friends  had  gone  to  Russell's  Cave  with  the  de- 
liberate intention  of  breaking  up  a  peaceful  Democratic  meet- 
ing. On  the  other  hand,  the  defense  stoutly  contended  that 
Brown,  Wickliffe,  Professor  Cross  of  the  Transylvania  medical 
school,  and  Ben  Wood,  a  policeman,  had  conspired  to  assas- 
sinate the  defendant;  that  Clay  acted  solely  in  self-defense;  and 
that  only  the  prompt  and  vigorous  use  of  his  bowie  knife  had 
prevented  the  execution  of  the  conspiracy.  The  weight  of  the 
evidence  seemed  to  be  with  the  defendant,  but  the  jury  was 
known  to  be  proslavery  almost  to  a  man.  The  defense  strove 
desperately  to  confine  the  testimony  to  the  charge  in  the  in- 
dictment, excluding  politics  and  all  other  outside  issues,  but 
in  this  they  were  not  wholly  successful. 

It  was  a  dramatic  moment  in  the  historic  old  courthouse 
when  at  the  conclusion  of  the  evidence  the  tall  form  of  Henry 
Clay  rose  to  address  the  jury.  Every  seat  in  the  circuit  court- 
room was  taken.  Men  and  women  crowded  the  aisles  and  stood 
with  craning  necks  out  in  the  corridors.    Old  men  leaned  for- 


86  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

ward  on  their  canes  and  cupped  tremulous  fingers  about  their 
ears  to  catch  once  more  the  sonorous  cadences  of  that  familiar 
voice.  It  had  been  forty-five  years  since  "the  Mill  Boy  of  the 
Slashes,"  a  stranger  just  arrived  from  Virginia,  without  even  a 
friend  to  introduce  him  to  the  court,  had  been  sworn  in  "upon 
his  own  motion"  as  a  member  of  the  Lexington  bar.12  From 
that  day  Clay  had  lost  few  criminal  cases,  though  it  was  now 
freely  predicted  by  those  who  knew  the  popular  feeling  against 
his  client  that  the  twelve  men  in  the  jury  box  would  never 
return  a  verdict  in  favor  of  the  defendant. 

But  the  old  gladiator  seemed  fully  equal  to  the  occasion 
as  he  calmly  buttoned  his  long  frock  coat  across  his  breast  and 
began  to  speak  to  the  jury  in  an  easy  conversational  tone.  The 
editor  of  the  Observer  noted  that  "  'age  had  not  withered  nor 
custom  staled  the  infinite  variety  of  his  genius;'  there  was  a 
fire  in  his  eye,  elation  in  his  countenance,  a  buoyancy  in  his 
whole  action  that  bespoke  the  most  complete  confidence  in  the 
outcome  of  the  trial."  For  more  than  two  hours  Clay  addressed 
the  jury  with  all  the  persuasive  eloquence  of  his  long  experi- 
ence as  an  advocate.  "Standing,  as  he  did,  without  aiders  or 
abettors,  and  without  popular  sympathy,  with  the  fatal  pistol 
of  conspired  murderers  pointed  at  his  heart,  would  you  have 
had  him  meanly  and  cowardly  fly?"  he  asked  at  the  close  in 
thundering  tones.  "Or  would  you  have  had  him  do  just  what 
he  did  do— there  stand  in  defense  or  there  fall?"  And  then, 
rising  to  his  full  height  and  turning  partly  toward  the  de- 
fendant, with  the  most  pathetic  voice,  broken  but  emphatic, 
he  exclaimed:  "And,  if  he  had  not,  he  would  not  have  been 
worthy  of  the  name  he  bears!"13 

After  Mr.  Robertson,  the  prosecutor,  had  made  the  closing 
appeal  for  the  commonwealth,  the  jury  retired,  deliberated  an 
hour,  and  then  filed  slowly  back  through  the  waiting  throng 
to  the  jury  box.  Judge  Richard  A.  Buckner  peered  over  his 
spectacles  at  the  twelve  men  in  front  of  the  bench.  "Have  you 
reached  a  verdict,  gentlemen?"  he  asked,  as  he  sternly  rapped 
for  order. 


GRIST  TO   THE  MILL  87 

"We  have,  your  Honor,"  replied  Foreman  Sam  Patterson, 
holding  up  a  folded  slip  of  paper  which  the  sheriff  handed  to 
the  clerk. 

"We  the  jury  find  the  defendant  not  guilty,"  read  the  clerk. 
There  was  a  moment's  silence,  then  scattering  applause,  quickly 
drowned  by  hisses,  muttered  threats,  shuffling  feet,  and  the 
sharp  voice  of  Judge  Buckner  ordering  the  sheriff  to  "empty 
the  courtroom."  The  antislavery  forces  had  won  their  first 
victory  in  Lexington,  and  Henry  Clay  had  achieved  perhaps 
his  greatest  courtroom  triumph.14 

During  the  months  that  followed  the  trial  of  Cassius  M. 
Clay,  Lincoln  found  in  the  columns  of  the  Observer  ample 
evidence  to  support  his  conviction  that  "no  man  was  good 
enough  to  govern  another."  Among  the  runaway  slaves  ad- 
vertised for  were: 

Jerry,  rather  spare,  slow  of  speech  when  spoken  to,  of  black 
complexion  and  one  or  two  of  his  upper  teeth  knocked  out. 

Polly,  a  likely  yellow  woman,  whose  fingers  on  her  right  hand 
are  drawn  toward  the  palm  from  a  burn. 

William,  [who  has  had]  one  of  his  legs  broken  and  it  is  now 
somewhat  twisted,  which  produces  an  impediment  in  his  walk. 

A  negro  man  named  Henry,  commonly  called  "Sir  Henry,"  who 
has  the  marks  of  a  recent  scald  on  the  left  cheek,  neck  and  ear,  the 
whole  being  scarcely  yet  healed. 

Jesse,  a  dark  mulatto,  45  years  old,  a  small  piece  bit  off  one  of 
his  ears,  a  scar  on  one  side  of  his  forehead,  and  his  right  shoulder 
bone  had  been  broken.15 

The  keeper  of  the  slave  jail  announced  that  there  had  been 
apprehended  and  was  now  in  his  custody  a  "sprightly  young 
mulatto  wench"  who  said  her  name  was  "Callie,"  with  a  "brand 
on  the  cheek,  forehead  and  breast  resembling  the  letter  'H'." 
Also  a  "stout  black  boy,  Mose,  who  has  a  burn  on  his  buttock 
from  a  hot  iron  in  shape  of  an  'X'  and  his  back  is  much  scarred 
with  the  whip."  And  "Alex,  who  has  his  ears  cropped  and  has 
been  shot  in  the  hind  parts  of  his  legs." 

A  resident  of  Lexington  had  for  sale  "a  Likely  Negro  girl, 


88  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

fifteen  years  of  age."  A  gentleman  wished  to  purchase  for  his 
use  a  few  "Young  Men  and  Women."  Another  offered  "a  negro 
woman  well  acquainted  with  house  business,  about  thirty  years 
old,  and  occasionally  fond  of  a  dram."  And  on  a  certain  county 
court  day  at  the  public  auction  block  an  owner  would  sell  "Four 
Negroes,  a  woman,  and  her  three  children:  a  boy  9,  a  girl  7 
and  a  boy  4.   They  will  be  sold  separately  if  desired." 

Then  there  came  an  afternoon  in  early  May,  1843.  Nearly 
two  thousand  people  were  assembled  on  Cheapside.  The  wealth 
and  culture  of  the  Bluegrass  were  there,  as  well  as  ladies  and 
gentlemen  from  Cincinnati,  Louisville,  Frankfort,  and  as  far 
south  as  New  Orleans.  Ordinarily  a  slave  sale  was  an  event 
that  attracted  only  casual  interest,  usually  attended  by  pro- 
spective purchasers  and  a  few  idle  bystanders.  But  today  a 
dense  mass  of  humanity  swarmed  about  the  old,  rickety  auc- 
tion block  at  the  southwest  corner  of  the  courthouse  yard,  and 
the  public  square  was  filled  to  overflowing  with  men  and 
women  in  fashionable  attire. 

Two  persons  stood  on  the  block:  one  was  the  auctioneer 
in  a  long  swallow-tailed  coat,  plaid  vest,  and  calfskin  boots, 
with  a  white  beaver  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head;  the  other 
was  a  beautiful  young  girl  with  dark  lustrous  eyes,  straight 
black  hair,  and  a  rich  olive  complexion,  only  one  sixty-fourth 
Negro.  She  was  white,  yet  a  slave,  the  daughter  of  her  master, 
about  to  be  sold  by  his  creditors  to  the  highest  and  best  bid- 
der. Reared  as  a  house  servant  in  a  home  of  wealth  and  culture, 
Eliza  had  acquired  grace,  poise,  education,  and  other  accom- 
plishments most  unusual  in  one  of  her  station.  Those  who 
were  selling  her  had  taken  no  chances  on  her  escape.  For  more 
than  a  week  she  had  been  confined  in  a  filthy,  crowded,  vermin- 
infested  slave  pen  with  maimed  and  twisted  pieces  of  humanity 
like  William  and  Callie  and  Mose,  and  now  she  stood  trembling 
and  disheveled,  staring  with  wide,  frightened  eyes  into  the 
upturned  faces  of  that  curious  throng. 

With  his  hand  clutching  the  girl's  shrinking  shoulder,  the 


GRIST  TO   THE  MILL  89 

auctioneer  addressed  the  crowd  in  businesslike  tones.  Here 
was  a  sprightly  wench,  such  as  never  before  had  been  offered 
at  a  public  sale.  She  was  skilled  in  all  the  household  arts,  de- 
pendable, trustworthy,  and  amiable  in  disposition.  In  the  most 
insinuating  tones  he  emphasized  her  exquisite  physique  and 
then  called  loudly  for  bids. 

"How  much  am  I  offered  for  the  wench?"  he  inquired  in 
a  harsh  voice.  The  bidding  started  at  two  hundred  fifty  dollars. 
Rapidly  it  rose  by  twenty-fives  and  fifties  to  R\e  hundred- 
seven  hundred— a  thousand  dollars.  When  twelve  hundred  was 
reached  only  two  bidders  remained  in  the  field:  Calvin  Fair- 
bank,  a  young  minister  who  had  just  recently  come  to  town, 
and  a  short,  thick-necked,  beady-eyed  Frenchman  from  New 
Orleans. 

"How  high  are  you  going?"  asked  the  Frenchman. 

"Higher  than  you,  Monsieur,"  replied  Fairbank. 

The  bidding  went  on,  but  slower— more  hesitant— smaller. 
The  auctioneer  raved  and  pleaded.  "Fourteen  hundred  and 
fifty,"  said  Fairbank  cautiously.  The  Frenchman  was  silent. 
The  hammer  rose— wavered,  lowered— rose  again— then  the 
flushed  and  perspiring  autctioneer  dropped  his  hammer  and 
jerked  Eliza's  dress  back  from  her  white  shoulders,  exhibiting 
to  the  gaze  of  the  crowd  her  superb  neck  and  breast. 

"Look  here,  gentlemen!"  he  shouted,  "who  is  going  to  lose 
such  a  chance  as  this?  Here  is  a  girl  fit  to  be  the  mistress  of  a 
king!"  A  suppressed  murmur  of  horror  ran  through  the  crowd. 
Women  turned  away  and  tried  to  leave.  Exclamations  of  anger 
were  heard  on  every  side.  But  the  man  on  the  block,  callous 
from  experience,  was  not  to  be  intimidated.  He  knew  his 
rights:  that  under  the  law  the  weeping,  cringing  creature  at 
his  side  was  a  chattel  and  nothing  more. 

"Fourteen  sixty- five,"  ventured  the  Frenchman. 

"Fourteen  seventy-five,"  responded  the  preacher. 

There  was  another  frenzied  appeal  for  bids,  but  none  came, 
and   it   seemed   that   the   contender   from   New   Orleans   was 


90  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

through.  Sickened  at  the  spectacle,  the  crowd  was  melting 
away  when  suddenly  the  auctioneer  "twisted  the  victim's  pro- 
file" to  the  dazed  and  incredulous  audience  and  "lifting  her 
skirts,  laid  bare  her  beautiful,  symmetrical  body  from  her  feet 
to  her  waist." 

"Ah,  gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed,  slapping  her  naked  thigh 
with  a  heavy  hand,  "who  is  going  to  be  the  winner  of  this 
prize?" 

"Fourteen  hundred  and  eighty,"  came  the  Frenchman's 
voice  feebly  through  the  tumult. 

The  man  on  the  block  lifted  his  gavel.  "Are  you  all  done? 
Once— twice— do  I  hear  any  more?  Thr-e-e."  The  high  bidder 
stood  with  a  smile  of  triumph  on  his  swarthy  features.  Eliza, 
knowing  who  the  preacher  was,  turned  an  appealing,  piteous 
face  in  his  direction. 

"Fourteen  eighty-five,"  said  Fairbank. 

"Eighty-five,  eighty-five— eighty-five;  I'm  going  to  sell  this 
girl.   Are  you  going  to  bid  again?" 

The  Frenchman  shook  his  head.  With  a  resounding  thud 
the  hammer  fell,  and  Eliza  crumpled  down  on  the  block  in 
a  swoon. 

"You've  got  her  damned  cheap,  sir,"  said  the  auctioneer 
cheerily  to  Fairbank.    "What  are  you  going  to  do  with  her?" 

"Free  her,"  cried  Fairbank,  and  a  mighty  shout  went  up 
from  the  dispersing  crowd  led,  surprisingly,  by  the  great  pro- 
slavery  advocate,  Robert  Wickliffe,  in  whose  carriage  Eliza  and 
her  new  owner  drove  to  the  house  of  a  friend  while  her  "free 
papers"  were  being  made  out.16 

The  sale  of  Eliza  sorely  taxed  the  allegiance  of  central  Ken- 
tucky to  its  favorite  institution  and  provoked  wide  discussion 
and  comment.17  The  emancipationists  held  it  up  as  a  hideous 
example  of  the  barbarous  slave  code,  while  the  opposition  rather 
feebly  contended  that  it  was  a  most  extraordinary  incident, 
an  extreme  case  never  likely  to  occur  again.  And  so  the  dis- 
cussion went  on  for  months  until  the  approaching  presidential 
campaign  absorbed  public  attention. 


150    REWARD. 

RANAWAY  from  the  subscriber,  on  the  night  of 
Monday  the  11th  July,  a  negro  man  named 


9 

about  30  years  of  a^e,  5  feet  6  er  7  inches  high;  of 
dark  color;  heavy  in  the  chest;  several  of  hin  jaw 
teeth  out;  and  upon  his  body  are  several  old  marks  of 

fne  \n hip,  one  or  them  straight  down  the  hick.  He 
took  with  him  a  quantity  of  clothing,  and  several 
hats. 

A  reward  of  $150  will  be  paid  for  his  apprehension 
and  security,  if  taken  out  of  the  State  of  Kentucky: 
§100  if  taken  in  any  county  bordering  on  the  Ohio 
river;  $50  if  taken  in  any  of  the  interior  counties  ex- 
cept Favette:  or  |20  if  taken  in  the  latter  county. 

july  12-84-tf  B.  L.  BOSTON. 

Reward  for  runaway  slave.    Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter 


Slave  auction  on  Cheapside 


GRIST  TO   THE  MILL  91 

The  year  1844  was  a  momentous  one  for  Lincoln.  Things 
were  happening  down  in  the  Bluegrass  State  that  would  ex- 
pand the  area  of  his  activities  and  give  him  more  than  state- 
wide prominence.  The  battle-scarred  Harry  of  the  West  was 
sounding  the  call  to  faithful  followers  for  a  last  desperate  as- 
sault upon  the  citadel  of  the  Presidency.  Twice  before  in  years 
gone  by,  the  great  prize  had  slipped  through  his  fingers.  Now 
the  Whigs  of  the  nation  with  boundless  enthusiasm  were  gath- 
ering for  the  fray,  thrilled  as  of  yore  by  the  unabated  mag- 
netism of  their  old  leader. 

The  Observer  carried  in  large  bold  type  at  the  head  of  its 
editorial  column  names  already  familiar  to  Lincoln,  and  one 
that  he  would  come  to  know  better:  Henry  Clay  for  President 
of  the  United  States;  William  Owsley  for  governor;  Archibald 
Dixon  for  lieutenant  governor,  who  ten  years  later  introduced 
the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  that  brought  Lincoln  out  of  political 
retirement;  and  Robert  S.  Todd  for  state  senator. 

From  the  first  of  May  until  the  election  in  November  the 
Observer  contained  almost  nothing  but  politics.  The  activities 
of  Senator  Todd  in  behalf  of  Henry  Clay  were  particularly 
noted.  "His  argument  exceeded  anything  ever  before  heard 
on  the  subject,"  said  the  editor.  "It  was  extremely  sound  and 
lucid.  He  was  frequently  interrupted  by  the  hearty  applause 
of  the  delighted  audience."18  Clay  remained  quietly  at  his 
country  seat,  while  column  after  column  of  the  newspaper  was 
devoted  to  his  views  on  the  question  of  the  day  and  intimate 
sketches  of  his  home  life  at  "Ashland."  Here,  as  nowhere  else, 
could  Lincoln  obtain  intimate  glimpses  of  his  "beau-ideal  of 
a  statesman,"  and  in  these  pages  he  saw  also  the  faraway  but 
ominous  gestures  toward  disunion. 

A  number  of  editorials  discussed  the  resolution  presented 
by  citizens  of  Edgefield,  South  Carolina:  "That  the  President 
of  the  United  States  be  requested  by  the  general  convention 
of  the  slave  states  to  call  Congress  together  immediately;  and 
the  alternative  distinctly  presented  to  the  free  states,  either  to 
admit  Texas  into  the   Union,   or  to  proceed  peaceably  and 


92  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

calmly  to  arrange  the  terms  of  the  dissolution  of  the  Union."19 
To  this  Clay  with  all  his  old-time  vigor  made  ringing  reply 
that  must  have  stirred  Lincoln's  blood. 

It  was  interesting  to  observe  the  attempts  of  the  Democrats 
to  place  the  Whig  candidate  in  much  the  same  position  into 
which  Lincoln  himself  maneuvered  the  agile  Douglas  fourteen 
years  later.  Clay  was  called  an  abolitionist  in  the  South,  while 
his  political  enemies  charged  him  with  proslavery  sentiments 
in  the  North.20  The  Observer  of  June  5,  1844,  carried  certified 
statements  from  several  persons  of  prominence  who  declared 
that  years  before  in  the  debate  on  the  Missouri  Compromise, 
Clay  had  said:  "If  gentlemen  will  not  allow  us  to  have  black 
slaves,  they  must  let  us  have  white  ones;  for  we  cannot  cut  our 
firewood,  and  black  our  shoes,  and  have  our  wives  and  daugh- 
ters work  in  the  kitchen."  Clay  denied  this  charge  in  dignified 
but  emphatic  language  and  closed  his  reply  as  follows:  "I  have 
no  desire  to  disparage  the  industry  of  the  wives  of  any  of  the 
certifiers  to  the  extract,  nor  to  boast  of  that  in  my  own  family, 
but  I  venture  to  say  that  no  one  of  them  performs  more  do- 
mestic industry  with  their  own  hands  than  my  wife  does  at 
Ashland."  And  yet,  according  to  the  Observer  of  July  24:  "Mr. 
Wickliffe  abused  Mr.  Clay  in  the  most  violent  manner.  He 
stated  that  Mr.  Clay  was  at  the  head  of  abolitionism  in  the 
United  States,  and  that  he  assisted  in  stealing  all  the  negroes 
that  have  run  off  from  this  state." 

Meanwhile,  Lincoln,  as  one  of  the  Whig  electors  for  his 
state,  actively  took  the  stump  for  his  hero.21  Day  after  day  he 
engaged  his  old  surveying  instructor,  John  Calhoun,  Stephen 
A.  Douglas,  and  other  Democratic  orators  in  joint  debates 
which  carried  him  to  nearly  every  part  of  the  state  and  "ex- 
cited much  popular  feeling."  Toward  the  close  of  the  cam- 
paign, he  crossed  the  Wabash  into  Indiana  and  spoke  at  Rock- 
port  and  other  places  near  the  home  of  his  boyhood.  It  was 
at  Gentry ville  that  his  early  friend,  Nat  Grigsby,  entered  the 
room  in  the  midst  of  his  speech  and  Lincoln  recognized  him 
instantly.    "There  is  Nat!"  he  exclaimed,  halting  suddenly  in 


GRIST  TO   THE  MILL  93 

his  remarks,  and  "striding  from  the  platform,"  he  pushed  eager- 
ly through  the  crowd  until  he  reached  the  modest  Nat  and 
grasped  him  by  the  hand.  Then,  as  though  no  interruption 
had  occurred,  he  returned  to  the  platform  and  finished  his 
speech.  That  night  Grigsby  and  Lincoln  slept  together  at  the 
home  of  the  village  storekeeper,  where  the  presidential  elector 
from  Illinois  "commenced  telling  stories  and  talked  over  old 
times"  until  nearly  dawn.22 

During  the  latter  part  of  August  public  attention  at  Lex- 
ington was  diverted  for  a  moment  from  politics  to  a  local 
tragedy  that  was  doubtless  of  interest  to  the  Lincoln  household. 
Mrs.  Caroline  A.  Turner,  who  had  outraged  the  community 
several  years  before  by  the  brutal  treatment  of  her  slaves,  had 
never  reformed.  Her  husband,  Judge  Fielding  L.  Turner,  be- 
fore he  died  in  1843  had  stated  in  his  will:  "I  have  some  slaves. 
I  give  them  to  my  children.  None  of  them  are  to  go  to  the 
said  Caroline  for  it  would  be  to  doom  them  to  misery  in  life 
and  a  speedy  death."23 

The  said  Caroline,  however,  had  renounced  the  will  and 
obtained  several  of  these  Negroes,  including  a  coachman  named 
Richard,  who  was  described  as  a  "sensible,  well-behaved  yellow 
boy,  who  is  plausible  and  can  read  and  write."  A  short  while 
thereafter,  on  the  early  morning  of  August  22,  Mrs.  Turner 
was  flogging  Richard  with  her  usual  zest  and  severity  when 
the  boy,  with  superhuman  strength  born  of  agony,  broke  the 
heavy  chains  that  bound  him  to  the  wall,  seized  his  mistress 
by  the  throat,  and  strangled  her  to  death  with  his  bare  hands. 
In  the  midst  of  intense  excitement  Richard  was  arrested,  thrown 
in  jail,  quickly  indicted,  and  rushed  into  trial  for  the  murder 
of  Caroline  A.  Turner.  Few  seemed  now  to  remember  her 
cruelties  that  had  created  such  widespread  indignation  a  few 
years  before.  The  very  attitude  of  the  press  toward  the  case 
was  a  revelation  of  how  blind  the  public  was  to  the  iniquity 
of  slavery.24 

Probably  a  dozen  Negroes  had  died  at  the  hands  of  Caroline 


94  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Turner.  Her  own  death  had  occurred  under  circumstances 
which,  if  they  did  not  exonerate  the  slayer,  ought  to  have  at 
least  reduced  the  homicide  to  "killing  in  sudden  heat  and  pas- 
sion," which  was  not  a  capital  crime  in  Kentucky.  The  de- 
fendant bore  an  excellent  reputation,  was  quiet,  peaceable  and 
inoffensive.  But  the  right  of  a  slave  to  self-defense  was  a  mere 
legal  fiction.  It  would  never  do  to  admit  that  a  bondman 
under  any  circumstances  could  ever  take  the  life  of  his  master 
or  mistress— not  even  to  save  his  own— and  escape  the  gallows. 
Such,  according  to  the  indictment,  was  "against  the  peace  and 
dignity  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Kentucky." 

So  on  September  23,  1844,  Richard  was  led  handcuffed  into 
court  by  Lincoln's  cousin,  Sheriff  Waller  Rodes,  went  through 
the  formality  of  a  trial,  and  was  promptly  found  guilty  of 
murder  in  the  first  degree.  On  November  19  at  eleven  o'clock 
Sheriff  Rodes  pulled  a  wooden  trigger,  and  Richard  plunged 
feet  first  through  the  narrow  trap  door  of  the  scaffold  in  the 
jail  yard  and,  obedient  to  the  judgment  of  the  court,  "hung 
by  the  neck  until  dead."25 

Wherever  he  went,  Lincoln  found  his  candidate  assailed 
by  the  Democrats  or  Locofocos  with  amazing  virulence.  From 
the  stump,  the  press,  and  pamphlets  came  venomous  thrusts 
at  not  only  the  public  career,  but  the  private  life  of  Henry 
Clay.26  Affidavits  from  Robert  Wickliffe  averred  that  "Mr. 
Clay  has  been  in  the  habit  of  playing  cards  for  money  for  many 
years  back,  at  watering-places,  on  steamboats,  and  at  private 
houses."  Several  congressmen  recalled  that  in  1838  on  the  ex- 
citing question  of  the  contested  seats  of  the  Mississippi  mem- 
bers Clay  had  come  over  from  the  Senate  to  watch  the  votes 
in  the  House  of  Representatives  and  was  standing  close  to  the 
speaker's  chair.  The  vote  was  a  tie,  and  as  Speaker  Polk  then 
cast  his  vote  in  the  affirmative,  "Henry  Clay,  looking  directly 
at  the  Speaker  with  an  expression  and  a  gesture  we  shall  never 
forget,  exclaimed,  'Go  Home,  God  damn  you,  where  you  be- 


GRIST  TO   THE  MILL  95 

long!'  "  Thomas  Montague  remembered  that  about  a  year 
before,  he  had  been  present  at  a  sale  of  Thomas  H.  Clay's 
effects  in  Lexington,  and  that  Henry  Clay,  exasperated  at  the 
low  prices  being  bid  for  his  son's  property,  "swore  very  loud 
and  said,  'I  do  not  care  a  God  Damn  whether  the  creditors  get 
a  damn  cent  of  their  debts  or  not,  if  they  stand  by  and  see  the 
property  sacrificed.'  "27 

Clay's  enemies  further  called  attention  to  his  duel  with 
Humphrey  Marshall,  his  encounter  with  John  Randolph,  and 
his  part  in  "the  murder  of  the  lamented  Cilley"  by  William  J. 
Graves.  They  pointed  out  that  he  was  even  then  under  bond 
in  the  District  of  Columbia  to  keep  the  peace  toward  William 
R.  King,  United  States  minister  to  France  and  formerly  senator 
from  Alabama,  and  that,  although  sixty-seven  years  old,  "cov- 
ered with  grey  hairs,"  when  recently  asked  whether  he  would 
fight  a  duel  at  his  age,  Clay  had  replied:  "I  can  not  reconcile 
it  to  my  sense  of  propriety,  to  make  a  declaration  one  way  or 
the  other."28  To  all  this  flood  of  hypocritical  abuse  the  Whig 
press  and  stump  speakers  like  Lincoln  made  vigorous  reply, 
and  the  Observer  thundered  its  heaviest  broadsides29  in  edi- 
torials styled:  "Mr.  Clay  and  His  Revilers."  As  election  day 
approached,  the  Whigs  redoubled  their  efforts  on  behalf  of 
the  national  ticket.  Enthusiasm  and  confidence  in  an  over- 
whelming victory  at  the  polls  were  boundless,  and  no  follower 
of  Henry  Clay  in  all  the  nation  was  more  absorbed  in  the  con- 
test than  Abraham  Lincoln. 

At  Lexington,  barbecues  were  held  under  the  giant  trees 
of  the  Bluegrass  woodlands,  where  that  delectable  concoction 
known  as  "Kentucky  burgoo"— almost  every  kind  of  vegetable 
with  dozens  of  chickens,  pheasants,  squirrels,  rabbits,  quail- 
stewed  in  huge  iron  kettles,  whole  shoats  and  lambs  roasted 
on  revolving  spits,  beeves  baked  in  trenches  under  the  hot  fire 
of  seasoned  oak  and  hickory  were  served  on  dozens  of  wide 
tables  each  forty  feet  long.  The  Clay  Club,  with  ornate  ban- 
ners presented  by  the  ladies,  led  by  its  grand  marshals,  Levi 


96  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

O.  Todd  and  Jesse  Bayles,  marched  in  cheering  torchlight  pro- 
cessions to  Cheapside,  where  they  were  addressed  by  various 
Whig  orators. 

On  September  30  Calvin  Fairbank,  the  Methodist  preacher 
who  had  sprung  into  notice  through  his  dramatic  purchase  of 
the  slave  girl  Eliza,  was  arrested  with  Miss  Delia  Ann  Webster, 
a  young  New  England  schoolteacher,  principal  of  the  Lexington 
Female  Academy,  on  a  charge  of  assisting  slaves  to  escape,  and 
the  pair  was  lodged  in  Megowan's  jail.  It  was  charged  that 
Fairbank  and  Miss  Webster  had  taken  three  Negroes— Lewis, 
a  waiter  at  the  Phoenix  Hotel,  and  his  wife  and  child— in  a 
hack  to  Maysville  where  they  were  ferried  across  the  Ohio  River 
to  freedom.30  Public  indignation  was  intense.  Fairbank,  heav- 
ily ironed,  was  thrown  into  the  dungeon  of  the  jail  in  solitary 
confinement.  Miss  Webster  was  given  quarters  in  the  "Debtor's 
Room."  Israel,  the  old  Negro  hack  driver,  was  stripped  to  the 
waist  and  after  more  than  fifty  lashes  on  his  bare  back  con- 
fessed that  he  had  driven  the  carriage  which  conveyed  the  pris- 
oners and  the  runaway  slaves  from  Lexington  to  Maysville.31 

The  northern  press  in  favor  of  Polk  seized  upon  this  in- 
cident as  another  opportunity  to  embarrass  Mr.  Clay  further. 
Two  days  before  the  election  the  Ohio  Coon-Catcher,  a  Loco- 
foco  publication  at  Columbus,  bitterly  attacked  the  Whig  can- 
didate, charging  that  Fairbank  and  Miss  Webster  "are  im- 
prisoned, ironed  and  manacled  within  sight  of  the  shades  of 
Ashland,"  and  called  loudly  to  all  abolitionists  to  vote  against 
Clay. 

On  Saturday  night,  November  2,  the  presidential  campaign 
closed  at  Lexington  with  a  "grand  Procession,  with  Torch 
Lights,  Transparencies,  etc."  WThig  leaders  from  many  parts 
of  the  United  States  were  present  to  participate  in  the  final 
demonstration.  Through  the  early  hours  of  the  evening  the 
mammoth  parade— Clay  Clubs,  fraternal  orders,  the  military 
and  citizens  with  blaring  bands— marched  and  countermarched 
along  the  streets  of  the  town,  winding  up  at  the  public  square 
where  "Balloon  &  Fireworks"  were  set  off,  and  standing  be- 


GRIST  TO   THE  MILL  97 

neath  a  brilliantly  illuminated  Liberty  Pole,  Henry  Clay  made 
a  short,  graceful  speech  of  gratitude  and  encouragement. 

The  election  was  held  on  November  4,  5,  and  6.  Both 
Lincoln  and  his  wife  were  tremendously  concerned  over  the 
result— Mary  even  more  anxious,  if  possible,  than  her  husband 
for  the  success  of  her  old  friend.  Without  rapid  means  of 
communication  the  contest  remained  in  doubt  for  days.  The 
Observer  of  November  13  announced  that  the  result  seemed 
to  hinge  on  the  state  of  New  York,  that  only  the  returns  from 
New  York  City  and  a  few  river  counties  were  in,  and  that  they 
were  ''strongly  indicative  that  the  state  has  given  her  thirty- 
six  electoral  votes  to  Mr.  Clay."  But  it  was  not  to  be.  In  a 
few  days  news  came  that  Polk  had  carried  the  Empire  State  by 
a  narrow  margin,  and  Mrs.  Robert  S.  Todd,  knowing  the 
anxiety  of  the  Lincoln  household,  sat  down  and  wrote  Mary 
a  graphic  description  of  how  Clay  had  taken  his  defeat. 

The  Todds  and  Clay  and  his  wife  were  attending  the  wed- 
ding of  a  near  relative  of  Clay.  The  party  was  composed  of 
only  intimate  connections  and  friends,  all  of  whom  were  Whigs 
and  anxiously  awaiting  final  news  of  the  election.  The  New 
York  mail  was  due  in  Lexington  about  ten  o'clock  that  evening. 

As  the  hour  approached  for  the  arrival  of  the  mail  [wrote  Mrs. 
Todd],  I  saw  several  gentlemen  quietly  leave  the  room,  and  know- 
ing their  errand,  I  eagerly  watched  for  their  return.  As  soon  as 
they  came  in  the  room  I  knew  by  the  expression  of  each  counte- 
nance that  New  York  had  gone  Democratic.  The  bearers  of  the 
news  consulted  together  a  moment,  then  one  of  them  advanced  to 
Mr.  Clay  who  was  standing  in  the  center  of  a  group,  of  which  your 
father  was  one,  and  handed  him  a  paper.  Although  I  was  sure  of 
the  news  it  contained,  I  watched  Mr.  Clay's  face  for  confirmation 
of  the  evil  tidings.  He  opened  the  paper  and  as  he  read  the  death 
knell  of  his  political  hopes  and  life-long  ambition,  I  saw  a  distinct 
blue  shade  begin  at  the  roots  of  his  hair,  pass  slowly  over  his  face 
like  a  cloud  and  then  disappear.  He  stood  for  a  moment  as  if 
frozen.  He  laid  down  the  paper,  and,  turning  to  a  table,  filled  a 
glass  with  wine,  and  raising  it  to  his  lips  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
said:    "I  drink  to  the  health  and  happiness  of  all  assembled  here." 


98  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

Setting  down  his  glass,  he  resumed  his  conversation  as  if  nothing 
had  occurred  and  was,  as  usual,  the  life  and  light  of  the  company. 
The  contents  of  the  paper  were  soon  known  to  every  one  in  the 
room  and  a  wet  blanket  fell  over  our  gaiety.  We  left  the  wedding 
party  with  heavy  hearts.  Alas!  our  gallant  "Harry  of  the  West" 
has  fought  his  last  presidential  battle.32 

The  defeat  of  Henry  Clay  was  a  great  disappointment  to 
Abraham  Lincoln.33  Though  twice  before  the  Sage  of  Ashland 
had  tasted  the  bitter  dregs,  there  had  always  been  hope  for  the 
future.  Now  his  decisive  defeat  by  Polk  convinced  Lincoln 
with  Mrs.  Todd  that  his  old  political  idol  had  run  his  last  race; 
that  no  man  who  did  not  actively  espouse  the  cause  of  slavery 
could  be  elected  President  of  the  United  States.34  The  cam- 
paign, however,  had  been  a  decided  success  for  Lincoln  per- 
sonally. His  influence  as  a  Whig  leader  was  no  longer  confined 
to  Sangamon  County.  It  had  spread  even  beyond  the  boundary 
of  the  state,  and  he  seemed  about  to  achieve  his  highest  am- 
bition to  be,  as  he  confided  to  a  friend,  the  "De  Witt  Clinton 
of  Illinois."35 


EIGHT 


The  True 
American 


V^ASSIUS  Marcellus  Clay  was  a  unique  and  the  most  pic- 
turesque antislavery  advocate  in  Kentucky.  Born  on  a  fine 
Bluegrass  plantation  in  a  magnificent  old  mansion  of  native 
granite,  gray  limestone,  and  red  brick  laid  in  Flemish  bond, 
a  son  of  the  largest  slaveholder  in  the  state,  he  espoused  the 
cause  of  emancipation  at  an  early  age,  and  by  the  time  of  his 
graduation  at  Yale  College  he  was  thoroughly  steeped  in  the 
doctrines  of  William  Lloyd  Garrison. 

He  was  a  man  of  striking  appearance  and  enormous  physical 
strength:  tall,  handsome,  big-boned,  broad-shouldered,  virile, 
graceful,  with  dark  flashing  eyes,  a  heavy  shock  of  black  hair, 
and  a  rich,  sonorous  voice  which  resembled  that  of  his  dis- 
tinguished kinsman.  He  was  generous,  frank,  and  polite  to 
all,  and  even  gentle  among  his  friends,  in  spite  of  a  hot  temper 
that  sometimes  warped  a  usually  sound  judgment.1  Possessed 
of  a  restless  energy  that  never  flagged,  an  iron  will  that  rode 
roughshod  over  all  obstacles,  utterly  fearless,  and  fiercely  com- 
bative when  aroused,  Clay  was  eagerly  accepted  into  that  small 
group  of  emancipationists  who  had  so  long  been  intimidated 


100  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

by  the  aggressive  supremacy  of  the  slave  power  in  Kentucky. 

To  Mary  Lincoln  and  her  sisters  in  Springfield,  Cash  Clay 
seemed  like  a  member  of  their  own  family.  They  had  known 
him  intimately  since  they  were  children,  when  he,  while  a  stu- 
dent at  Transylvania,  came  to  live  in  the  Todd  home  following 
the  fire  that  destroyed  the  main  building  and  dormitories  of 
that  institution  in  1829.2  Several  years  later  Clay  had  married 
Mary  Jane  Warfield,  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Todd  girls,  and 
young  Mrs.  Edwards,  the  oldest  sister,  was  matron  of  honor  at 
the  wedding. 

Since  1840  Cassius  M.  Clay  had  been  the  stormy  petrel  of 
central  Kentucky  politics,  and  old  friends  in  Illinois  had  fol- 
lowed his  tempestuous  career  through  heated  controversy  and 
bloodshed.  While  Lincoln  certainly  did  not  agree  with  all  his 
views  on  slavery,  nor  frequently  in  the  manner  of  their  presen- 
tation, the  two  were  in  hearty  accord  on  the  principle  expressed 
by  Lincoln  in  characteristic  language  when  he  said:  "Clay,  I 
always  thought  that  the  man  who  made  the  corn  should  eat 
the  corn."3 

The  year  1845  found  Clay  fully  prepared  to  launch  a  fresh 
attack  on  slavery  in  Kentucky.  Late  in  January  he  published 
in  the  local  papers  and  also  in  pamphlet  form  an  address:  To 
the  People  of  Kentucky.  He  argued  that  the  institution  of 
slavery  was  both  morally  and  economically  wrong.  He  pointed 
out  that  land  in  Ohio,  though  much  inferior  in  fertility  to  the 
soil  of  Kentucky,  was  higher  in  market  value  because  of  free 
labor,  and  that  slaveholders  would  benefit  economically  from 
emancipation,  even  without  compensation. 

Population  is  sparse,  and  without  numbers  there  is  neither  com- 
pletion nor  division  of  labor,  and,  of  necessity,  all  mechanic  arts 
languish  among  us.  Agriculture  drags  along  its  slow  pace  with 
slovenly,  ignorant,  reckless  labor.  A  loose  and  inadequate  respect 
for  the  rights  of  property  follows  in  the  wake  of  slavery.  Dueling, 
bloodshed  and  Lynch-Law  leave  but  little  security  to  person.  A 
general  demoralization  has  corrupted  the  first  minds  of  the  nation, 
its  hot  contagion  has  spread  among  the  whole  people;  licentious- 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  101 

ness,  crime  and  bitter  hate  infest  us  at  home;  repudiation  and  the 
forcible  propagandism  of  slavery  is  arraying  against  us  the  world 
in  arms.  I  appeal  to  history,  to  reason,  to  nature  and  to  conscience, 
which  neither  time  nor  space,  nor  fear,  nor  hate,  nor  hope  of  re- 
ward, nor  crime,  nor  pride,  nor  selfishness  can  utterly  silence— are 
not  these  things  true? 

And  then  he  closed  with  an  eloquent  appeal: 

Italian  skies  mantle  over  us,  and  more  than  Sicilian  luxuriance  is 
spread  beneath  our  feet.  Give  us  free  labor,  and  we  shall  indeed 
become  the  garden  of  the  world!  But  what  if  not?  Man  was  not 
created  only  for  the  eating  of  Indian  meal;  the  mind— the  soul 
must  be  fed  as  well  as  the  body.  The  same  spirit  which  led  us  on 
to  the  battle-field,  gloriously  to  illustrate  the  National  name,  yet 
lives  in  the  hearts  of  our  people.  They  feel  their  false  position, 
their  impotency  of  future  accomplishment.  This  weight  must  be 
removed.  Kentucky  must  be  free! 

As  the  weeks  went  by,  Clay  found  it  increasingly  difficult 
to  obtain  space  in  the  Lexington  newspapers.  His  last  card, 
which  the  editor  grudgingly  consented  to  publish,  seemed  tem- 
perate enough.  ''Although  no  man  is  more  sensible  than  I  am 
of  the  evils  of  slavery,"  wrote  Clay,  "it  has  never  been  con- 
sistent with  my  real  feelings  or  ideas  of  true  policy  to  deal  in 
indiscriminate  denunciation  of  slaveholders.  One  may  very 
well  feel  acutely  the  violations  of  general  principles  and,  yet 
deeply  sympathize  with  the  self-made  victims  of  error— the  man 
who  inflicts  evil  is  more  to  be  pitied  than  one  who  suffers  it. 
Such,  at  least,  is  my  own  experience."4  The  editor  of  the  Ob- 
server, while  a  conservative  slavery  man,  had  always  kept  his 
columns  open  to  the  advocates  of  emancipation.  But  Clay's 
articles  were  so  "militant  and  provocative"  in  tone  that  in  "the 
interest  of  the  public  peace"  he  declined  further  articles  for 
publication. 

The  intrepid  Clay,  however,  had  foreseen  such  a  possibility, 
and  being  a  man  of  independent  fortune,  he  now  set  about  the 
execution  of  a  long-contemplated  plan  to  start  a  newspaper  of 
his  own.    He  was  fully  aware  of  the  dangers  that  confronted 


102  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

such  an  undertaking.  He  remembered  very  well  the  experi- 
ence of  James  G.  Birney  who,  having  attempted  in  1833  to 
start  an  antislavery  newspaper,  the  Philanthropist,  at  Danville, 
was  threatened  with  murder  and  banished  from  Kentucky. 
There  were  many  who  warned  him  of  a  similar  fate. 

In  our  judgment  [said  the  Observer]  Mr.  Clay  has  taken  the 
very  worst  time  that  he  could  to  begin  the  agitation  of  this  great 
and  delicate  question,  even  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  object, 
since  it  is  an  admitted  truth  that  the  fanatical  crusade  which  has 
been  waged  by  Northern  Abolitionists  against  the  institution  of 
slavery,  which  never  in  any  degree  concerned  them,  has  produced 
a  state  of  feeling  in  the  minds  of  slaveholders  anything  but  pro- 
pitious to  the  slave  or  his  liberation.  .  .  .  We  make  these  remarks 
not  to  discourage  Mr.  Clay,  for  we  know  very  well  that  his  ardent 
and  enthusiastic  temperament  never  sees  an  obstacle  in  his  way, 
and  we  do  not  know  anyone  whom  under  other  circumstances  we 
should  welcome  to  the  Editorial  Corps  with  more  cordiality  than 
Mr.  Clay,  but  to  apprise  him  in  advance,  that,  from  our  observa- 
tion and  reflection,  he  is  embarked  in  a  very  hopeless  undertaking.5 

However,  in  spite  of  the  misgivings  of  his  friends  and  the 
mutterings  of  the  slavocracy,  Clay  calmly  and  cautiously  set 
about  his  task.  He  selected  for  his  printing  establishment  the 
second  story  of  a  brick  building  near  the  corner  of  Main  and 
Mill  streets.  He  lined  the  outside  doors  with  heavy  sheet  iron. 
The  only  approach  to  the  office,  a  steep,  narrow  stairway,  was 
guarded  by  two  brass  four-pounder  cannon  mounted  behind 
folding  doors  and  loaded  with  Minie  balls  and  nails.  The 
office  was  also  equipped  with  a  stand  of  rifles,  several  shotguns, 
and  a  dozen  Mexican  lances.  As  a  last  extremity  Clay  provided 
an  avenue  of  escape  through  a  trap  door  in  the  roof  and  means 
whereby  he  could  touch  off  several  kegs  of  powder,  secreted 
in  one  corner  of  the  room,  which  would  blow  up  the  office 
and  its  invaders.6 

On  June  3,  1845,  The  True  American,  a  weekly  newspaper, 
with  "God  and  Liberty"  in  bold  type  over  the  date  line,  made 
its  appearance  on  the  streets  of  Lexington.  Three  hundred 
Kentuckians   and   seventeen   hundred  subscribers   from   other 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  103 

states  greeted  the  new  champion  of  freedom  with  warm  en- 
thusiasm, while  Horace  Greeley,  editor  of  the  New  York  Trib- 
une, acclaimed  it  "The  first  paper  which  ever  bearded  the 
monster  in  his  den,  and  dared  him  to  a  most  unequal  en- 
counter." 

Just  how  many  copies  of  The  True  American  went  to 
Springfield,  where  probably  a  dozen  of  the  editor's  early  friends 
resided,  will  never  be  known.  The  proposed  publication  of 
an  avowed  antislavery  organ  in  Kentucky  had  attracted  intense 
interest  throughout  the  country,  and  nowhere  more  than  in 
Lincoln's  own  city.  Its  complete  prospectus  had  appeared  in 
several  issues  of  the  Sangamo  Journal,  and  Lincoln  could  not 
help  but  endorse  that  portion  of  the  announcement  which 
stated  that  "a  number  of  Kentuckians,  slaveholders  and  others, 
propose  to  publish  in  the  City  of  Lexington  a  paper  devoted 
to  gradual  and  constitutional  emancipation.  ...  It  is  not  pro- 
posed that  our  members  should  cut  loose  from  their  old  party 
associations.  The  press  under  our  control  will  appeal  tem- 
perately but  firmly  to  the  interests  and  the  reason,  not  to  the 
passions,  of  our  people.  .  .  .  But  our  readers  shall  not  be  our 
masters— if  they  love  not  truth  they  may  go  elsewhere."7 

Although  Lincoln  and  Clay  at  this  time  had  never  met, 
the  latter  was  certainly  known  to  Lincoln,  not  only  as  an  old 
friend  of  the  Todd  family,  but  as  a  vigorous,  fearless,  anti- 
slavery  leader,  whose  personal  encounters  had  been  vividly 
described  from  time  to  time  through  the  columns  of  that  reg- 
ular Lexington  visitor  to  the  Lincoln  household.  Lincoln  was 
familiar  with  the  tragic,  futile  effort  of  Elijah  Lovejoy  to  es- 
tablish an  antislavery  press  in  free  territory  at  Alton,  Illinois, 
in  which  he  lost  his  life.  Now  he  had  an  opportunity  to  observe 
public  reaction  to  such  a  newspaper  published  within  the  very 
threshold  of  the  institution  and  among  its  stoutest  defenders. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  position  of  The  True  American 
on  the  great  question  of  the  day.  It  was  the  "avowed  and  un- 
compromising enemy  of  slavery."  Its  views  were  stated  fully 
and  frankly,  though  sometimes  in  language  not  altogether  tem- 
perate.   It  was  in  favor  of  the  liberation  of  slaves  by  "constitu- 


104  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

tional  and  legal  means,"  and  not  otherwise;  Congress  had  no 
power  to  interfere  with  slavery  where  it  was  already  established 
without  the  "legitimate  consent  of  the  states.  The  addition 
of  new  slave  states  or  a  slave  territory  to  this  Union,  is  uncon- 
stitutional and  impossible."8 

But  Clay's  modest  four-page  sheet  was  received  with  scowls 
of  hostility  throughout  the  Bluegrass.  Suppression  by  force  was 
darkly  hinted  at.  Such  proposed  action,  however,  was  at  first 
emphatically  rejected  by  the  cooler  element  of  the  community. 
On  June  7  the  Observer  condemned  editorially  the  suggestion 
that  "It  would  be  right  to  demolish  by  violence  Mr.  Clay's 
press,"  saying: 

If  there  be  an  instance  on  record  where  a  resort  to  Mob  Law 
has  been  justifiable  in  a  civilized  country,  we  know  not  where  to 
look  for  it.  At  the  same  time,  we  must  take  occasion  to  say,  without 
entering  into  a  controversy  on  the  subject,  that  we  think  Mr.  Clay's 
enterprise  utterly  impracticable  if  not  quixotic.  The  time  and  the 
mode  are,  in  our  judgment,  wrong— radically,  fundamentally  wrong. 
It  matters  not  what  a  man's  views  about  slavery  may  be.  There  is 
a  fitness  in  things— a  propriety  in  action,  which  ought  never  to  be 
disregarded  by  a  considerate  man. 

Within  a  few  short  weeks  Abraham  Lincoln  saw  in  the  sit- 
uation at  Lexington  ample  confirmation  of  the  opinion  which 
he  had  expressed  in  1837,  that  "The  promulgation  of  abolition 
doctrines  tends  rather  to  increase  than  to  abate"  the  evils  of 
slavery.  Broadsides  from  The  True  American  were  answered 
by  heavy  volleys  from  the  usually  conservative  Observer,  and 
newspapers  from  other  states,  both  north  and  south,  took  up 
the  fight. 

Finally,  on  July  16  the  Observer  carried  at  the  top  of  its  edi- 
torial column  "An  Appeal  to  the  Slaveholders  of  Fayette": 

It  is  time,  full  time  that  slaveholders  of  Fayette  should  have 
peace— that  their  rights  and  their  security  should  no  longer  be  a 
football  to  be  kicked  to  and  fro  by  unprincipled  political  jugglers 
and  office-seekers.  Whenever  an  impudent  political  schemer  in  poli- 
tics wishes  to  make  a  breeze,  he  begins  at  once  to  bawl  out  about 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  105 

slavery,  abolition,  emancipation,  .  .  .  until  by  the  agitation  of  a 
most  delicate  subject  he  creates  a  little  excitement  and  reaps  some 
political  profit  out  of  it.  Slaveholders  of  Fayette,  is  it  not  now 
time  for  you  to  act  on  this  matter  yourself,  and  as  conventions  are 
all  the  fashion  at  this  time,  hold  one  yourself? 

Since  we  penned  these  lines,  we  have  looked  over  the  New  York 
Tribune,  deeply  tinctured  with  abolition  tendencies,  and  were 
struck  with  the  following  paragraph: 

"Nothing  Like  Discussion— Among  the  evidences  that  C.  M. 
Clay's  True  American  is  exerting  a  strong  influence  in  Kentucky 
is  the  fact  that  other  papers  opposed  to  his  course  are  under  the 
necessity  of  answering  his  arguments  and  thus  aiding  to  produce 
that  wholesome  moral  agitation  which  will  be  sure  to  result  in 
Triumph  of  Liberty  over  Slavery.  If  we  were  in  a  slave  state,  we 
should  draw  great  encouragement  from  this  sign  of  the  times,  be- 
lieving with  a  very  shrewd  observer,  that  slavery  is  an  institution 
in  every  way  so  bad  that  it  matters  little  what  people  say  about  it 
if  they  will  only  keep  talking.  It  is  only  in  an  atmosphere  of  silence 
and  stagnation  that  the  friends  of  slavery  can  hope  to  perpetuate 
its  existence!" 

Aye,  play  into  his  hands,  you  wicked  agitators,  or  if  we  must  be 
charitable,  you  ignorant  numbskulls.  Horace  Greeley,  the  editor 
of  the  Tribune,  is  a  shrewd  man,  and  we  are  almost  irresistibly 
drawn  to  the  conclusion  that  these  Locos  are  engaged  in  this  thing 
of  agitation,  "wholesome  agitation,"  as  Greeley  calls  it,  for  the  very 
purpose  of  overthrowing  the  institution.  Beware  of  them,  slave- 
holders!   Beware  of  them! 

Public  resentment  against  the  antislavery  course  of  Clay's 
newspaper  was  soon  reflected  in  the  attitude  of  candidates  for 
office.  Garret  Davis  and  the  gifted  but  erratic  Tom  Marshall, 
rival  candidates  for  Congress,  were  holding  a  heated  series  of 
joint  debates  throughout  the  old  Ashland  district.  Both  can- 
didates were  loud  in  their  denunciation  of  The  True  American 
and  its  editor.  To  clamorous  requests  that  he  state  his  position 
on  slavery  and  the  repeal  of  the  Negro  Law,  which  since  1833 
had  prohibited  the  bringing  of  slaves  into  Kentucky  as  mer- 
chandise, Marshall  responded  in  resounding  phrases  from  a 
platform  erected  in  the  courthouse  yard  at  Lexington: 


106  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

I  answer  now,  I  am  not  in  favor  of  Abolition  of  slavery  in  Ken- 
tucky. I  believe,  in  the  first  place,  that  there  is  no  government  on 
earth  armed  with  the  constitutional  power  to  effect  this  object,  and 
if  there  was  I  would  resist  its  exercise.  .  .  .  The  abolition  of  slavery 
in  the  United  States  involves  more  than  a  civil  or  political  or  social 
revolution.  It  is  not  mere  prejudice  of  race  or  caste,  a  despotic 
prejudice  founded  in  injustice  and  upheld  by  power,  which  the 
Abolitionist  seeks  to  destroy.  He  aims  at  a  revolution  in  nature 
and  the  moral  structure  of  the  species,  unauthorized  alike  by  physi- 
cal or  intellectual  laws.  I  might  wish  to  see  it  effected  when  it 
shall  please  the  Creator  to  wash  out  the  mark  he  has  branded  on 
the  African's  brow,  to  obliterate  the  all-enduring  monument  of 
past  wrong,  the  pledge  of  eternal  hate,  the  badge  of  physical  in- 
feriority and  past  servitude  that  dooms  the  African  and  his  de- 
scendants while  among  us  to  be  a  slave,  protected  by  the  benev- 
olence or  interest  of  his  master,  or  an  outcast  shielded  by  no  laws, 
linked  with  no  sympathy,  the  miserable  victim  of  a  prejudice  in- 
curable, because  founded  in  the  nature  of  things;  or  a  stern,  des- 
perate domestic  foe,  burning  with  hate,  panting  for  revenge— armed 
with  the  power  of  freedom,  yet  stripped  of  all  its  most  precious 
blessings  and  advantages. 

The  idea  of  citizenship  and  equality,  a  Democratic  society  in 
Kentucky  and  Virginia  compounded  of  liberated  African  negroes 
and  the  descendants  of  European  chivalry,  the  races  kept,  too,  for- 
ever distinct,  is  an  absurdity  too  monstrous  for  Abolitionism  itself. 
Eternal  war,  war  to  extermination  of  slavery  or  amalgamation  of 
the  races  are  the  three  alternatives.  Shield  me  and  mine  from  that 
philanthropy  which  would  blend  the  crystal  eye,  the  elevated  fea- 
tures, the  rosy  skin,  all  the  striking  and  glorious  attributes  that 
mark  the  favorites  of  nature,  exhaling  fragrance  and  redolent  with 
beauty  and  of  bloom,  with  the  disgusting  peculiarities,  the  wool 
and  grease  and  foetere  of  the  blackened  savage  of  the  Southern 
deserts.9 

But  the  editor  of  The  True  American  unhorsed  the  "hybrid 
candidate"  for  Congress  with  a  single,  well-planted  blow.  Much 
to  Marshall's  discomfiture,  Clay  quoted  "the  apostate  Whig's" 
Letters  to  the  Commonwealth,  written  several  years  before  in 
opposition  to  the  repeal  of  the  Negro  Law  at  a  time  when  he 


One  of  the  brass  cannon  used  in  the  defense  of  The 
True  American  office 


-   .....       * 


Cassius  M.  Clay 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  107 

was  not  "a  beguiling  candidate  for  office."  In  his  denunciation 
of  slavery  Marshall  had  then  drawn  a  pathetic  picture  of  slav- 
ery's blighting  effect  on  his  native  state: 

I  have  said  that  I  consider  negro  slavery  as  a  political  misfor- 
tune. The  phrase  was  too  mild.  It  is  a  cancer— a  slow,  consuming 
cancer— a  withering  pestilence— an  unmitigated  curse.  .  .  .  There 
is  but  one  explanation  of  the  facts  I  have  shown.  There  is  but  one 
cause  commensurate  with  the  effects  produced.  The  clog  which 
has  stayed  the  march  of  the  people,  the  incubus  which  has  weighed 
down  her  enterprise,  strangled  her  commerce,  kept  sealed  her  ex- 
haustless  fountains  of  mineral  wealth,  and  paralysed  her  arts,  man- 
ufacturies  and  improvements  is  Negro  Slavery.  This  is  the  cancer 
which  has  corroded  her  revenues,  laid  waste  her  lowlands,  banished 
her  citizens,  and  swallowed  up  her  productions— this  is  the  maga- 
zine, the  least  approach  to  which,  fills  her  with  terror.  This  is  the 
slumbering  volcano  which  will  bear  no  handling.  The  smallest 
breath  to  fan,  the  slightest  threat  to  stir  its  sleeping  but  unex- 
tinguished fires,  drives  her  to  madness.  Oh!  Well  might  she  curse 
the  tyrant  who  planted  this  Dark  Plague  Spot  upon  her  virgin 
bosom!10 

Lincoln's  father-in-law  was  the  Whig  candidate  for  the  state 
Senate  against  Colonel  Charles  C.  Moore,  a  virulent,  proslavery 
Independent,  whose  platform  was  the  repeal  or  nullification 
of  the  "Iniquitous  Negro  Law."  And  by  July  the  slavery  issue, 
fanned  to  white  heat  by  the  presence  of  The  True  American, 
reached  a  stage  where  the  Whig  leaders  greatly  feared  whole- 
sale desertion  of  their  proslavery  constituents  to  the  Democratic 
camp.  Robert  S.  Todd  was  in  danger  of  defeat  at  the  hands 
of  his  dashing  and  vociferous  opponent,  who  proclaimed  a 
militant  hostility  to  all  enemies  of  slavery,  the  colonel  boldly 
charging  that  Todd  had  been  nominated  by  the  emancipation 
wing  of  his  party  and  that  his  record  in  the  legislature  proved 
him  to  be  "no  friend  of  the  institution." 

With  this  aspect  of  the  campaign  growing  more  serious 
every  day,  Todd's  friends  prevailed  upon  him  to  write  a  card 
which  was  published  in  the  Observer.  He  would  not  repudiate 


108  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

his  stand  on  the  Negro  Law,  even  to  save  himself  from  political 
death.  "Having  been  present  during  its  discussion,"  he  said, 
"  (though  not  as  a  member)  I  was  in  favor  of  its  passage,  and 
have  been  uniform  and  steadfast  in  its  support,  believing,  as 
I  sincerely  do,  that  it  is  founded  on  principles  of  sound  policy." 
But  with  a  view,  no  doubt,  of  placating  his  proslavery  con- 
stituents Todd  closed  his  brief  statement  with  the  declaration: 
"I  am  a  slaveholder.  Were  I  an  abolitionist  or  an  emancipator 
in  principle,  I  would  not  hold  a  slave."11 

The  card  was  undeniably  weak  on  the  vital  issue,  and  Col- 
onel Moore  said  so  in  no  uncertain  terms.  But  the  Observer, 
with  an  eye  toward  the  wavering  members  of  its  party,  sought 
to  bolster  up  the  halfhearted  announcement  by  editorial  com- 
ment: "Mr.  Todd  meets  these  questions  like  a  man  and  a 
statesman.  He  is  no  abolitionist  in  any  sense  of  the  term— he 
is  the  owner  of  slaves  himself  and  is  determined,  so  far  as  lies 
in  his  power,  that  the  rights  of  the  slaveholder,  as  guaranteed 
by  the  constitution,  shall  be  protected."12 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  the  proslavery  champions  con- 
tinued their  campaign  against  Todd.  Robert  Wickliffe  wrote 
"a  long  lecture  to  the  people  of  Fayette  County"  which  ap- 
peared in  the  columns  of  the  Gazette.  "Twice  or  thrice,"  said 
he,  "has  this  Abolition  Club  (the  Clay  Club  of  Lexington) 
ordered  the  election  of  the  salaried  President  of  the  Bank  of 
Kentucky,  and  the  majority  has  obeyed."  And  Todd  replied 
to  his  old  enemy  in  a  sizzling  card  which  was  published  both 
in  the  Observer  and  in  pamphlets. 

Mr.  Wickliffe  in  his  fit  of  malice  and  desperation,  seems  to 
imagine  every  man,  except  himself,  an  abolitionist,  and  he  has,  as 
I  have  heard,  indulged  the  belief  that  Queen  Victoria  and  her 
ministers,  at  their  leisure  moments,  are  plotting  to  steal  away  his 
three  hundred  slaves!  .  .  .  But  Fellow  Citizens  [said  Todd  in  con- 
clusion] with  all  the  loathing  that  an  upright  man  can  feel  to- 
wards an  habitual  and  notorious  falsifier,  an  unscrupulous  and 
indiscriminate  calumniator,  reckless  alike  of  fame,  of  honor,  and 
of  truth,  I  must  now  take  my  present  leave  of  this  miserable  old 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  109 

man,  and  express  to  you  my  regret  that  to  justify  myself  against 
his  unprovoked  assaults,  unfounded  charges  and  illiberal  insinua- 
tions, I  have  been  reluctantly  compelled,  in  this  manner  and  at 
this  time,  to  trespass  on  your  patience.13 

Two  weeks  before  the  election  Wickliffe  issued  a  bitter  re- 
joinder in  the  form  of  a  handbill  entitled:  "To  the  Freemen 
of  Fayette."    As  to  Todd's  card: 

He  begins  by  telling  you  that  I  am  actuated  by  malice  towards 
him  personally.  This  is  ever  the  charge  of  the  weak  and  vicious. 
It  is  untrue  and  none  other  than  a  craven  spirit  would  condescend 
to  use  it.  It  is  thus  he  meets  the  facts  which  I  have  furnished  to 
the  people  showing  that  he  is  not  a  desirable  representative.  If 
there  are  personal  differences  between  Mr.  Todd  and  myself,  that 
does  not  prove  that  while  he  was  active  as  President  of  the  Branch 
Bank  of  Kentucky,  he  did  not,  as  a  member  of  the  Legislature  for 
Fayette,  assist  in  getting  the  Bank  released  from  paying  into  the 
Treasury  $20,000  a  year,  .  .  .  nor  that  in  this  whole  matter  he  did 
not  play  the  part  of  Bank  President  and  Legislator,  in  a  bargain 
between  the  state  and  the  corporation,  where  the  interests  of  the 
two  were  irreconcilable,  and  in  which  the  bank  gained  and  the 
state  lost. 

Wickliffe  replied  to  several  other  charges  in  the  Todd  card 
and  then  concluded:  "Mr.  Todd  chooses  to  insinuate  that  I 
acquired  my  wealth  by  dishonesty.  This  insinuation  is  a  base 
and  infamous  falsehood.  This  calumny  was  first  uttered  by 
Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  whose  slander  merchant  Mr.  Todd  is, 
and  how  he  fared  for  it,  the  public  has  seen.  ...  In  my  old 
age  I  have  been  assaulted  by  the  basest  calumnies  and  foulest 
abuse,  but  while  I  live  I  will  discharge  my  duties  to  my  country 
as  steadfastly  as  I  did  in  bygone  days  against  more  formidable 
adversaries."14 

The  election  was  held  August  4,  5,  and  6.  It  was  a  time  of 
great  anxiety  to  those  conservative  Whigs  who  realized  that 
the  paramount  issue  of  the  campaign  was  slavery  and  that  their 
candidate  for  the  Senate  was  far  from  acceptable  to  the  radical 
wing  of  the  party.    On  Wednesday,  the  third  day  of  the  elec- 


110  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

tion,  the  Democrats  were  leading  by  a  narrow  margin,  when 
the  Sage  of  Ashland  emerged  from  his  retirement  and  made 
the  rounds  of  the  polling  places  with  Robert  S.  Todd  in  an 
open  barouche,  "fresh  in  health  and  buoyant  in  spirits  with 
his  ready  joke  and  laugh,  among  his  farmer  friends."  This 
strategy  had  the  desired  effect  and  did  much  to  save  the  day. 
The  mere  sight  of  their  beloved  chieftain  rallied  the  disheart- 
ened Whigs,  and  Todd  and  the  rest  of  the  ticket  were  elected 
by  safe  majorities.  But  the  result  was  a  costly  victory  for  Henry 
Clay,  as  the  following  night  an  incendiary  seeking  revenge 
crept  into  his  "Bagging  Factory  &  Rope  Walk"  and  burned  the 
large  plant,  containing  fifty  tons  of  hemp,  to  the  ground.15 

The  election  was  over.  The  radical  proslavery  element  that 
sought  the  repeal  of  the  law  which  prohibited  breeding  and 
traffic  in  slaves  as  merchandise  had  been  defeated,  and  the  dis- 
gruntled leaders  began  to  look  about  for  the  cause.  The  True 
American  was  now  some  nine  weeks  old,  and  many  believed 
that  the  contaminating  influence  of  Cash  Clay's  newspaper  was 
responsible  for  the  result  at  the  polls. 

With  the  appearance  of  each  issue  the  temper  of  the  popu- 
lace had  become  more  and  more  inflamed.  Threats  had  been 
made  both  anonymously  and  in  the  open  against  the  life  of 
the  editor.  One  of  the  communications,  scrawled  in  blood,  read: 

C.  M.  Clay: 

You  are  meaner  than  the  autocrats  of  hell.  You  may  think  you 
can  awe  and  curse  the  people  of  Kentucky  to  your  infamous  course. 
You  will  find  when  it  is  too  late  for  life,  the  people  are  no  cowards. 
Eternal  hatred  is  locked  up  in  the  bosoms  of  braver  men,  your  bet- 
ters, for  you.  The  hemp  is  ready  for  your  neck.  Your  life  can  not 
be  spared.  Plenty  thirst  for  your  blood— are  determined  to  have  it. 
It  is  unknown  to  you  and  your  friends,  if  you  have  any,  and  in  a 
way  you  little  dream  of. 

Revengers.16 

It  cannot  be  said  that  Clay  had  always  acted  with  discretion 
during  the  short,  stormy  career  of  The  True  American.  Head- 
strong, quick-tempered,  a  master  of  withering  invective,  he  had 


THE   TRUE  AMERICAN  111 

dared  a  thing  that  no  other  man  had  ever  accomplished.  He 
had  grappled  with  the  overwhelming  forces  of  slavery  in  their 
own  citadel,  giving  no  quarter  and  asking  none.  The  under- 
taking, to  have  had  the  faintest  chance  for  success,  was  one  that 
called  for  tact,  patience,  and  foresight.  Yet  the  result  would 
have  been  the  same,  perhaps  not  so  soon,  but  eventually,  even 
for  a  man  much  better  poised  than  he.  And  so,  as  the  days 
went  by  and  public  excitement  grew,  the  end  of  The  True 
American  came  in  sight. 

Worn  out  by  the  nerve-racking  struggle,  on  July  12  Clay 
was  stricken  with  typhoid  fever  and  lay  for  weeks  in  packs  of 
ice.  During  his  illness  several  friends  undertook  the  publica- 
tion of  the  newspaper,  but  their  blundering,  well-meaning 
efforts  only  made  matters  worse.17  On  August  12  The  True 
American  published  a  long,  carefully  prepared  article  by  "one 
of  the  very  first  intellects  in  the  Nation,"  who,  as  stated,  was 
also  the  owner  of  many  slaves: 

Slaveholders  particularly  [said  the  article  in  part]  must  look 
to  and  obey  the  progress  of  the  times,  and  adopt  all  the  ameliorat- 
ing measures  possible  in  the  economy  and  management  of  their 
slaves.  They  should  regard  them  as  human  beings  and  Christians, 
and  spare  the  lash  and  all  degrading  punishments.  They  should 
hail  the  progress  of  public  opinion,  and  aid  in  lifting  the  slave  into 
comfort  and  self-esteem.  That  goes  to  raise  them  from  dirt,  ver- 
min, and  horrid  hovels  to  good  beds,  clean  cabins,  wholesome  and 
abundant  food  and  decent,  comfortable  clothes.  That  goes  to  edu- 
cate them,  gives  them  religion  and  fits  them  for  future  usefulness 
and  citizenship. 

It  is  vain  for  the  master  to  try  to  fence  his  dear  slaves  in  from 
all  intercourse  with  the  great  world,  to  create  his  little  petty  and 
tyrannical  kingdom  on  his  own  plantation,  and  keep  it  for  his  ex- 
clusive reign.  He  can  not  shut  out  the  light  of  information  any 
more  than  the  light  of  heaven.  It  will  penetrate  all  disguises  and 
shine  upon  the  dark  night  of  slavery.  He  must  recollect  that  he  is 
surrounded.  The  North,  the  West,  the  South  border  on  him.  The 
free  West  Indian,  the  free  Mexican,  the  free  Yankee,  the  more  than 
free  Abolitionist  of  his  own  country.  Everything  trenches  on  his 
infected  district,  and  the  wolf  looks  calmly  in  upon  his  fold. 


112  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

This  article  and  an  editorial  of  like  tenor  in  the  same  issue 
were  the  sparks  that  touched  off  a  rock-shivering  blast  of  pop- 
ular indignation.  The  pent-up  feelings  of  the  community— the 
hatred,  suspicion,  and  bitterness  engendered  by  the  Fairbank 
Negro  stealing,  the  recent  battle  at  the  polls,  and  the  publica- 
tion of  an  "abolition"  newspaper  under  the  very  nose  of  the 
slavocracy— now  broke  loose  in  a  fury. 

About  three  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  August  14  Clay 
heard  that  a  meeting  of  citizens  who  favored  the  suppression  of 
The  True  American  was  in  progress  at  the  courthouse.  Though 
weak  and  emaciated  from  his  long  illness,  he  crawled  out  of 
bed,  put  on  his  clothes,  buckled  on  his  bowie  knife,  drove 
downtown,  and  staggered  into  the  courtroom  just  as  the  meet- 
ing began. 

Some  thirty  men  were  there  when  he  arrived,  and  they 
peremptorily  demanded  that  he  cease  the  publication  of  his 
"fire-brand"  at  once.  Smarting  from  the  fresh  wounds  of  his 
recent  defeat  for  Congress,  Thomas  R.  Marshall  then  launched 
into  a  speech  in  which  he  charged  that  Cassius  M.  Clay  had 
"assassinated"  the  peace  and  good  order  of  the  community. 
Lying  prostrate  upon  a  bench,  Clay  denounced  the  "apostate 
Whig,"  and  though  scarcely  able  to  speak  above  a  whisper, 
demanded  a  hearing.  This  was  ignored  and  the  meeting  ad- 
journed. 

Several  hours  later  a  committee  of  three  came  to  Clay's 
home  and  delivered  to  him,  as  he  lay  on  his  bed,  an  ultimatum 
that  he  "discontinue  the  publication  of  the  paper  called  The 
True  American,  as  its  further  continuance  in  our  judgment,  is 
dangerous  to  the  peace  of  our  community,  and  to  the  safety 
of  our  homes  and  families." 

The  communication  closed  by  saying:  "We  owe  it  to  you 
to  state  that,  in  our  judgment,  your  own  safety,  as  well  as  the 
repose  and  peace  of  the  community  are  involved  in  your  an- 
swer." 

Clay  immediately  dictated  an  emphatic  reply  which  was 
both  a  refusal  to  comply  with  the  committee's  request  and  a 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  113 

challenge.  "Your  advice  with  regard  to  my  personal  safety," 
he  said,  "is  worthy  of  the  source  whence  it  emanated,  and  meets 
with  the  same  contempt  from  me  which  the  purpose  of  your 
mission  excites.  Go  tell  your  secret  conclave  of  cowardly  assas- 
sins that  C.  M.  Clay  knows  his  rights  and  how  to  defend  them." 
The  news  of  the  committee's  visit  and  the  editor's  defiant 
reply  to  its  demand  spread  swiftly  and  by  suppertime  was  all 
over  town.  That  evening  the  impending  crisis  was  the  sole 
topic  of  conversation.  Little  groups  of  citizens  discussed  it  until 
a  late  hour  from  the  comfortable  depths  of  the  huge  hickory 
rocking  chairs  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the  Phoenix  Hotel, 
while  others  stood  talking  in  low  tones  on  the  street  corner 
near  the  Clay  residence,  where  a  light  shone  dimly  through 
the  trees  from  the  sickroom  window.  And  the  Lexington  cor- 
respondent to  the  Sangamo  Journal  at  Springfield  sat  down  and 
wrote  that  newspaper: 

During  the  whole  of  to-day  the  popular  excitement  was  very 
high.  Many  anticipated  that  the  meeting  of  three  p.m.  would  tear 
down  the  office  of  The  True  American.  The  meeting  for  Monday 
will  be  tremendous.  What  it  will  do  I  am  of  course  unable  to  say. 
It  may  postpone  ultimate  action,  but  I  think  the  almost  universal 
impression  is  that  it  will  resolve  itself  into  a  committee  for  the 
redress  of  grievances  and  demolish  The  True  American  office, 
though  everybody  understands  that  the  editor  will  have  to  be  killed 
first,  and  that  he  is  somewhat  difficult  to  kill.  This  is  a  most  lament- 
able state  of  affairs.  What  effect  the  killing  of  C.  M.  Clay  will  have 
on  the  free  states  in  exasperating  the  abolitionists  and  swelling  the 
number,  you  can  judge  as  well  as  I.18 

Two  days  later  the  sick  man  gave  out  for  publication  a  brief 
statement  of  his  views  on  slavery.  He  did  not  sanction  any 
mode  of  freeing  the  slaves  contrary  to  the  laws  and  constitution 
of  the  state  of  Kentucky;  he  was  opposed  to  their  admission 
to  the  right  of  suffrage.  The  idea  of  amalgamation  and  social 
equality  was  impossible  and  absurd.  He  did  believe,  however, 
that  every  female  slave  born  after  a  certain  day  and  year  should 
be  free  at  the  age  of  twenty-one.   After  the  expiration  of  thirty 


114  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

years  the  state  should  provide  a  fund  for  the  purchase  of  the 
existing  generation  of  slaves,  and  thereafter  human  slavery 
should  be  forever  at  an  end. 

Little  attention,  however,  was  paid  to  this  declaration.  Ap- 
parently the  argumentative  attitude  of  the  editor  only  served 
to  feed  the  flames.  On  Saturday,  August  16,  handbills  were 
issued  to  the  "People  of  Lexington  and  Fayette  County,"  calling 
for  the  suppression  of  The  True  American  and  announcing 
a  mass  meeting  of  citizens  for  the  following  Monday.  Runners 
were  dispatched  with  these  posters  to  be  distributed  in  ad- 
joining counties. 

Meanwhile,  Clay  made  preparations  as  best  he  could  for  a 
last  desperate  stand.  The  excitement  of  the  past  week  and  his 
trip  to  the  courthouse  had  caused  a  grave,  half-delirious  re- 
lapse, but  with  a  dogged  courage  that  had  carried  him  through 
many  precarious  situations  he  gave  orders  for  battle  to  a  handful 
of  chosen  friends.  The  two  brass  cannons  were  loaded  afresh 
with  nails  and  Minie  balls  and  sighted  so  that  the  deadly  canister 
would  rake  the  double  sheet-iron  doors  breast  high.  Rifles  and 
shotguns  were  fitted  with  new  percussion  caps,  and  the  shafts 
and  points  of  the  Mexican  lances  carefully  tested.  Clay  made 
his  will  and  sent  his  camp  bed  down  to  the  office. 

The  enemies  of  The  True  American,  however,  were  work- 
ing from  many  angles.  They  realized  that  Clay  had  the  legal 
right  to  resist  the  invasion  of  his  office,  and  none  knew  better 
than  they  that  any  attempt  to  molest  the  printing  establishment 
would  result  in  bloodshed.  Consequently,  a  plan  was  devised 
to  seize  the  plant  under  process  of  law,  and  on  the  early  morn- 
ing of  Monday,  August  18,  the  day  of  the  mass  meeting,  Judge 
Trotter  of  the  police  court,  quietly  and  without  notice  or  any 
opportunity  for  the  editor  to  be  heard,  issued  an  injunction 
against  The  True  American  office  and  all  its  appurtenances. 
The  city  marshal,  armed  with  a  writ  of  seizure,  then  appeared 
at  Clay's  bedside,  and  on  demand  from  the  officer,  the  sick 
man  yielded  up  his  keys,  turned  over  on  his  pillow,  and  wept 
bitterly.19 

On  that  same  morning,  at  eleven  o'clock,  a  crowd  of  twelve 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  115 

hundred  men,  unaware  of  the  secret  court  proceedings,  as- 
sembled in  the  courthouse  yard.  They  were  addressed  by  the 
man  whom  Clay  had  so  scornfully  dubbed  the  "apostate  Whig," 
who  harangued  the  crowd  for  more  than  an  hour. 

In  the  preparation  and  establishment  of  his  office  in  Lexington, 
Mr.  Cassius  M.  Clay  acted  as  though  he  were  in  an  enemy's  country 
[exclaimed  Marshall,  after  a  graphic  recital  of  many  grievances 
against  the  Abolition  newspaper].  He  has  employed  scientific  en- 
gineers in  fortifying  against  attacks,  and  prepared  the  means  of 
destroying  the  lives  of  his  fellow  citizens,  it  is  said,  in  mines  of 
gun-powder,  stacks  of  musket  and  pieces  of  cannon.  The  whole 
course  of  the  man  bears  evidence  incontestable  that  he  was  entering 
upon  a  career  fatal  to  the  peace  of  the  community  of  which  he  was 
a  member.  .  .  .  Such  a  man  and  such  a  course  is  no  longer  toler- 
able or  consistent  with  the  character  or  safety  of  this  community. 

With  the  power  of  a  press,  with  education,  fortune,  talent,  sus- 
tained by  a  powerful  party,  at  least  abroad,  who  have  made  this 
bold  experiment  in  Kentucky  through  him,  the  negroes  might  well, 
as  we  have  strong  reason  to  believe  they  do,  look  to  him  as  a  de- 
liverer. On  the  frontier  of  slavery,  with  three  free  states  fronting 
and  touching  us  along  a  border  of  seven  hundred  miles,  we  are 
peculiarly  exposed  to  the  assaults  of  Abolition.  The  plunder  of 
our  property,  the  kidnapping,  stealing  and  abduction  of  our  slaves, 
is  a  light  evil  in  comparison  with  planting  a  seminary  of  their  infer- 
nal doctrines  in  the  very  heart  of  our  densest  slave  population.  .  .  . 

Mr.  Clay  has  complained  in  his  recent  handbills  of  his  indis- 
position, and  charged  the  people  as  deficient  in  courage  and  mag- 
nanimity in  moving  upon  him  when  he  is  incapable  of  defense. 
If  all  that  be  said  of  him,  his  purpose,  and  his  means,  be  true,  his 
indisposition  is  fortunate.  He  may  rest  assured  that  they  will  not 
be  deterred  by  one  nor  10,000  such  men  as  he.  He  cannot  bully 
his  countrymen.  A  Kentuckian  himself,  he  should  have  known 
Kentuckians  better.  His  weakness  is  his  security.  We  are  armed 
and  resolved— if  resistance  be  attempted,  the  consequence  be  on 
his  own  head.  For  our  vindication  under  the  circumstances,  we 
appeal  to  Kentucky  and  to  the  world. 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  speech,  Mr.  Marshall  offered  the 
following  resolutions,  which  were  unanimously  adopted: 


116  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Be  it  resolved  by  the  Assembly: 
First:   That  no  Abolition  press  ought  to  be  tolerated  in  Kentucky, 
and  none  shall  be  in  this  city  or  its  vicinity. 

Second:  That  if  the  office  of  The  True  American  be  surrendered 
peaceably,  no  injury  shall  be  done  to  the  building  or  other  prop- 
erty. The  presses  and  printing  apparatus  shall  be  carefully  packed 
up  and  sent  out  of  the  state,  subject  then  to  Mr.  C.  M.  Clay's  order. 
Third:  That  if  resistance  be  offered,  we  will  force  the  office  at  all 
hazards  and  destroy  the  nuisance. 

Fourth:  That  if  an  attempt  be  made  to  revive  the  paper  here,  we 
will  assemble. 

Fifth:  That  we  hope  C.  M.  Clay  will  be  advised.  For  by  our  re- 
gard to  our  wives,  our  children,  our  property,  our  country,  our 
honor,  wear  what  name  he  may,  be  connected  with  whom  he  may, 
whatever  arm,  or  party  here  or  elsewhere  may  sustain  him,  he  shall 
not  publish  an  abolition  paper  here,  and  this  we  affirm  at  the  risk, 
be  it  of  his  blood,  or  our  own,  or  both,  or  of  all  he  may  bring,  of 
bond  or  free,  to  aid  his  murderous  hand. 

Sixth:  That  the  chairman  be,  and  he  is  hereby,  authorized  to  ap- 
point a  committee  of  sixty  of  our  body  who  shall  be  authorized  to 
repair  to  the  office  of  The  True  American,  take  possession  of  the 
press  and  printing  apparatus,  pack  up  the  same,  and  place  it  at 
the  railroad  office  for  transportation  and  report  forthwith  to  this 
body.20 

The  chairman  then  appointed  sixty  men  from  the  crowd, 
who  proceeded  promptly  but  quietly  to  Number  6,  Mill  Street, 
where  to  their  surprise  they  found  the  city  marshal  with  Clay's 
keys,  which  he  surrendered  to  them  after  a  "formal  protest." 
By  nightfall  the  rooms  on  the  second  floor  of  the  building  were 
dismantled  and  the  press  and  paraphernalia  of  The  True 
American  packed  up  and  carted  to  the  depot  en  route  to  a 
destination  beyond  the  border  of  slave  territory. 

The  most  violent  denunciation  by  northern  newspapers  fol- 
lowed the  "outbreak  of  the  mob  at  Lexington,"  and  Lincoln's 
Sangamo  Journal  published  a  lurid,  exaggerated  account  of  the 
final  proceedings:  "We  understand  that  the  'choice  spirits' 
consisted  of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  men,  wearing  black 
masks  to  conceal  their  features   (this  was  modest  at  all  events,) 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  117 

and  calling  themselves  'the  black  Indians'— that  they  made 
loud  noise  through  the  streets  of  Lexington,  maltreated  many 
negroes,  and,  besides  tarring  and  feathering  several  in  the 
public  square,  broke  the  ribs  of  one  man,  the  hands  of  another, 
and  so  injured  the  eye  of  a  third  that  the  poor  fellow  will  lose 
it.   What  will  the  people  at  large  think  of  these  proceedings?"21 

The  action  of  the  committee  of  sixty  was,  of  course,  stoutly 
defended  by  the  Observer.  "Men  may  write  books  as  they 
please  to  prove  that  this  was  a  lawless  procedure  and  in  utter 
violation  of  the  principles  of  the  Constitution  and  laws  by 
which  our  rights  and  property  are  protected.  It  will  avail 
nothing.  There  may  be  a  state  of  things  in  which  Constitutions 
and  laws  are  totally  inadequate  to  the  public  protection  from 
dire  calamities  and,  in  that  event,  popular  action  (though 
usually  to  be  deprecated)  must  be  excused."22  In  sharp  con- 
tradiction of  the  version  printed  in  the  Sangamo  Journal,  it 
congratulated  the  community  upon  "the  rare  spectacle  of  an 
innumerable  body  of  citizens,  meeting  as  a  matter  of  course 
with  highly  excited  feelings,  yet  so  far  subduing  and  moderating 
their  spirit  as  to  accomplish  their  purpose  without  the  slightest 
damage  to  property  or  the  effusion  of  a  drop  of  blood."23  But 
as  criticism  of  the  outside  press  grew  louder  and  more  rabid, 
the  local  paper  lost  its  temper  and  exclaimed:  "Howl  on,  ye 
wolves!  Kentucky  is  ready  to  meet  and  repel  your  whole  blood- 
thirsty piratical  crew!"24 

However,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  troubles  Clay  was  more 
widely  known  and  warmly  appreciated  elsewhere  than  he  knew. 
In  April,  1846,  William  H.  Seward,  former  governor  of  New 
York,  soon  to  be  United  States  senator  from  that  state,  later 
candidate  for  President  and  then  secretary  of  state  in  the  cabinet 
of  Abraham  Lincoln,  visited  Lexington  on  his  western  tour. 

Coming  in  from  Maysville  by  stagecoach  over  a  turnpike 
"of  great  smoothness  and  beautiful  curves,"  the  passengers  at 
the  beginning  of  the  trip  rode  on  the  outside  of  the  lumbering 
vehicle.  "Having  heard  so  much  of  the  beauty  of  the  environs 
of  Lexington,"  Seward  wrote  back  home,  "I  persevered  in  keep- 


118  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

ing  my  outside  place  through  a  heavy  rain,  which  greeted  us 
as  we  entered  the  town."  Spreading  beeches  and  maples  grew 
everywhere,  and  the  woodlands  were  "embellished  with  flow- 
ering trees,  the  white  blossoms  of  the  buckeye  and  the  dogwood, 
of  the  wild  cherry  and  the  wild  plum,  mingled  with  the  brilliant 
purple  clusters  of  the  Judas-tree." 

As  the  coach  rolled  down  Limestone  Street,  the  driver 
pointed  out  the  house  of  Cassius  M.  Clay— an  elegant  stone 
cottage  "embowered  with  shade  trees  and  shrubbery"  in  the 
center  of  a  "beautiful  park." 

Next  morning  Seward  went  to  "Thorn  Hill."25  "A  gentle- 
man of  thirty-five,  fine,  straight  and  respectable  in  his  look, 
came  forth  in  wrapper  when  I  rang  the  bell."  In  a  few  minutes 
Seward  and  Cash  Clay  were  fast  friends. 

When  the  Lexington  visitor  returned  to  his  hotel,  he  found 
that  Henry  Clay  had  called  and  left  a  cordial  invitation  to  visit 
"Ashland,"  which  he  did  twice  during  his  short  stay  in  Lex- 
ington. But  as  the  former  governor  penned  a  letter  to  his  old 
political  friend,  Thurlow  Weed,  his  mind  was  not  on  Henry 
but  on  Cash. 

The  name  of  Cassius  M.  Clay  was  never  mentioned  in  Cincin- 
nati without  respect  and  affection.  On  entering  Kentucky,  it  ceased 
to  be  pronounced  at  all  in  your  ears,  and  if  you  allude  to  it,  it 
comes  back  weighted  with  alarms,  apprehensions  and  caviling.  .  .  . 
I  can  only  say  of  Cassius  M.  Clay  that  I  found  him  all  I  desired 
he  should  be.  ...  I  found  him  so  brave,  so  true,  so  kind.  ...  I 
had  feared  he  would  be  inflated  with  the  praises  he  so  deservedly 
receives  in  the  free  states,  but  I  fear,  on  the  contrary,  that  these 
scarcely  sustain  him  against  the  injustice  he  suffers  at  home.  He 
is  frank,  manly,  unaffected  and  free  from  the  peculiarities  of  dis- 
position that  spoil  generally  the  advocates  of  Emancipation. 

Seward  concluded  his  letter  with  the  observation  that  in  Ken- 
tucky "slavery  is  seen  in  its  least  repulsive  form.  Kentucky  is 
Virginia  with  the  serpent  in  its  youth.  In  Virginia  it  is  full 
grown  and  gorged  with  the  life  blood  of  the  Old  Dominion." 


THE  TRUE  AMERICAN  119 

During  these  eventful  and  turbulent  months  Abraham  Lin- 
coln had  followed  the  "bold  experiment"  in  Kentucky  closely. 
It  had  provoked  a  broader  and  more  varied  discussion  of  slavery 
than  he  had  ever  known  before.  The  best  intellects,  the  most 
superb  orators  of  his  native  state,  had  been  arrayed  against  one 
another.  Column  after  column,  indeed  whole  pages,  of  the 
Observer  had  been  devoted  to  the  Marshall-Davis  debates,  and 
able  though  moderate  antislavery  articles  by  Dr.  Bascom,  presi- 
dent of  Transylvania,  answered  by  Robert  S.  Todd's  opponent, 
Colonel  Charles  C.  Moore.  The  fate  of  The  True  American 
verified  a  conclusion  that  had  been  growing  upon  Lincoln  in 
recent  years,  that  agitation  of  the  slavery  question  in  southern 
territory  only  served  to  solidify  sentiment  against  even  gradual 
emancipation. 

A  few  weeks  after  the  affair  at  Lexington,  Lincoln  wrote 
his  first  detailed  statement  of  his  attitude  on  slavery:  "I  hold 
it  to  be  a  paramount  duty  of  us  in  the  free  states,  due  to  the 
Union  of  the  states,  and  perhaps  to  liberty  itself  (paradox 
though  it  may  seem)  to  let  the  slavery  of  the  other  states  alone; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  I  hold  it  to  be  equally  clear,  that  we 
should  never  knowingly  lend  ourselves  directly  or  indirectly, 
to  prevent  that  slavery  from  dying  a  natural  death— to  find  new 
places  for  it  to  live  in,  when  it  can  no  longer  exist  in  the  old."26 


NINE 


The  Lincolns  Visit 
Lexington 


On  AUGUST  29,  1846,  the  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter 
announced  that  Abraham  Lincoln,  son-in-law  of  state  senator 
Robert  S.  Todd,  had  been  elected  to  Congress  from  Illinois. 
The  result,  however,  of  the  recent  election  throughout  the 
country  was  far  from  satisfactory  to  this  stanch  Whig  organ. 
"We  know  that  Locofocoism  has  swept  the  platter  tolerably 
clean,"  it  observed  gloomily;  "with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Lin- 
coln in  Illinois,  there  is  not  as  much  Whig  virtue  and  honesty 
as  was  required  to  save  Sodom  and  Gomorrah." 

Lincoln  had  been  opposed  in  his  race  for  Congress  by  Peter 
Cartwright,  who  had  defeated  him  in  his  first  campaign  for 
the  legislature,  a  militant,  hard-hitting,  Methodist  circuit  rider, 
the  sworn  enemy  of  slavery  and  whisky,  twenty-four  years  older 
than  the  Whig  candidate,  and  he  had  found  the  preacher  a 
most  formidable  adversary.  The  canvass  had  been  vigorous 
and  colorful.  The  supporters  of  Cartwright  called  attention 
to  the  fact  that  Lincoln  had  married  into  an  aristocratic  family 
and  that  he  had  stated  in  a  temperance  speech  at  Springfield 
that  drunkards  were  often  as  honest,  generous,  and  kindly  as 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  121 

teetotalers  and  church  members,  and  sometimes  more  so.1  They 
industriously  circulated  reports  that  Lincoln  was  an  infidel, 
and  also  that  he  was  a  "deist"  who  believed  in  God  but  did  not 
accept  the  divinity  of  Jesus  Christ  nor  the  inspiration  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures. 

As  further  proof  of  his  irreligious  bent  of  mind  they  related 
how  Cartwright  was  preaching  one  night  at  a  place  where 
Lincoln  had  made  a  speech  that  afternoon  and,  as  the  evening 
service  began,  the  Springfield  lawyer  had  quietly  slipped  into 
a  pew  at  the  rear  of  the  church  and  sat  listening  attentively 
to  his  opponent's  vehement  denunciation  of  the  devil  and  all 
his  works.  Near  the  end  of  the  sermon  the  preacher  had  leaned 
dramatically  across  the  pulpit  and  called  upon  all  who  expected 
to  go  to  heaven  to  rise.  All  arose  except  Lincoln.  Then  Cart- 
wright  asked  all  who  expected  to  go  to  hell  to  rise.  Still  Lincoln 
remained  seated.  Then  with  a  resounding  thump  the  circuit 
rider  smote  the  lectern  with  a  horny  fist. 

"I  have  asked  all  who  expect  to  go  to  heaven  to  rise  and  all 
who  expect  to  go  to  hell  to  rise,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  now  I 
should  like  to  inquire,  where  does  Mr.  Lincoln  expect  to  go?" 

Lincoln  rose  slowly  to  his  feet.  He  was  obviously  discon- 
certed by  the  sudden  and  pointed  inquiry,  but  in  a  moment 
he  had  recovered  himself,  and  with  a  twinkle  in  his  deep  gray 
eyes  he  drawled: 

"I  expect  to  go  to  Congress."2 

When  the  ballots  had  been  counted,  Lincoln's  majority  was 
1,511,  exceeding  the  vote  that  had  been  cast  for  Henry  Clay 
two  years  before  by  more  than  500,  but  returns  from  the  whole 
state  showed  that  he  was  the  only  Whig  candidate  for  Congress 
elected  in  Illinois.3 

A  few  days  later  the  new  congressman-elect  wrote  the  editor 
of  the  Illinois  Gazette  published  in  Lacon.  He  said  that  during 
the  recent  campaign  he  had  been  aware  that  "Mr.  Cartwright 
was  whispering  the  charge  of  infidelity"  against  him  in  the 
"Northern  counties  of  the  District." 

"From  the  election  returns  in  your  county"  (Marshall  Coun- 


122  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

ty  and  the  adjoining  county  of  Woodford  being  the  only  coun- 
ties carried  by  Cartwright) ,  Lincoln  continued,  "being  so 
different  from  what  they  are  in  parts  where  Mr.  Cartwright 
and  I  are  both  well  known,  I  incline  to  the  belief  that  he  has 
succeeded  in  deceiving  some  honest  men  there,"  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  "Cartwright,  never  heard  me  utter  a  word  in  any  way 
indicating  my  opinions  on  religious  matters,  in  his  life."  Lin- 
coln enclosed  a  little  handbill  which  he  had  had  printed  shortly 
before  the  election  but  had  not  distributed.  It  was  an  answer 
to  the  charge  that  he  was  an  "open  scoffer  at  Christianity.  .  .  . 
That  I  am  not  a  member  of  any  Christian  Church  is  true," 
said  Lincoln,  "but  I  have  never  denied  the  truth  of  the  Scrip- 
tures; and  I  have  never  spoken  with  intentional  disrespect  of 
religion  in  general,  or  of  any  denomination  of  Christians  in 
particular."  Furthermore,  "I  do  not  think  I  could  myself,  be 
brought  to  support  a  man  for  office,  whom  I  knew  to  be  an 
open  enemy  of,  and  scoffer  at,  religion.  ...  If,  then,  I  was 
guilty  of  such  conduct,  I  should  blame  no  man  who  should 
condemn  me  for  it;  but  I  do  blame  those,  whoever  they  may 
be,  who  falsely  put  such  a  charge  in  circulation  against  me."4 

Lincoln  had  realized  his  great  ambition.  He  was  to  sit 
beneath  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  that  had  echoed  the  voices 
of  Clay,  Webster,  and  Calhoun,  with  his  ancient  rival,  Stephen 
A.  Douglas.  Yet  now  that  the  contest  was  won,  he  felt  little 
elation  over  the  victory.  "Being  elected  to  Congress,"  he  wrote 
Speed  in  Kentucky,  "though  I  am  very  grateful  to  our  friends, 
for  having  done  it,  has  not  pleased  me  as  much  as  I  expected."5 

During  the  winter  and  early  spring  following  his  election 
Lincoln  practiced  law  in  desultory  fashion  and  swapped  dog- 
gerel poetry  with  a  friend  who  lived  in  another  county.  He 
had  written  some  crude  and  melancholy  verses  on  the  occasion 
of  his  return  to  his  old  home  in  Indiana  during  the  Clay  cam- 
paign. "I  am  not  at  all  displeased  with  your  proposal  to  publish 
the  poetry,  or  doggerel,  or  whatever  else  it  may  be  called, 
which  I  sent  you,"  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Johnston.  His  name, 
however,  must  "be  suppressed  by  all  means,"  for,  said  he,  "I 


Main  Street  in  Lexington  as  L 


1NUOLN   .SAW    11 


Slave  auction  in  the  courthouse  yard 

From  original  negative  in  the  Mulligan  Collection 


The  home  of  Roiwri  S.  Todd,  as  ii  looks  ioday 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  123 

have  not  sufficient  hope  of  the  verses  attracting  any  favorable 
notice  to  tempt  me  to  risk  being  ridiculed  for  having  written 
them."6 

Things  were  unusually  dull  around  Springfield.  Upon  the 
declaration  of  war  with  Mexico  many  of  the  young  men  had 
marched  away  with  Baker  and  Hardin  and  Shields  into  the 
country  south  of  the  Rio  Grande.  Although  Lincoln  with  his 
party  had  opposed  the  declaration  of  war,  now  that  hostilities 
had  begun  he  urged  vigorous  prosecution  to  an  honorable 
peace  in  a  public  address  on  May  30,  1847. 

By  the  middle  of  October  he  had  completed  plans  for  the 
journey  to  Washington.  It  was  arranged  that  Mrs.  Lincoln 
and  the  two  children  should  accompany  him  and  that  they 
would  stop  off  at  Lexington  for  a  leisurely  visit  with  the  Todd 
relatives.7  This  would  be  Mary's  first  visit  back  home  since  she 
left  in  1839,  and  although  Robert  S.  Todd  had  visited  Spring- 
field,  her  stepmother  and  small  half  brothers  and  half  sisters 
had  never  seen  her  tall,  rawboned  husband.  So  early  Monday 
morning,  October  25,  Congressman  Lincoln  with  his  wife  and 
two  small  boys— Bob,  four,  and  Eddie,  a  year  and  a  half  old- 
climbed  into  the  stage  that  carried  them  overland  to  St.  Louis, 
where  they  boarded  a  steamboat  for  Louisville.8 

"Mr.  Lincoln,  the  member  of  Congress  elect  from  this  dis- 
trict," said  the  Springfield  Illinois  Weekly  Journal  of  October 
28,  "has  just  set  out  on  his  way  to  the  city  of  Washington.  His 
family  is  with  him;  they  intend  to  visit  their  friends  and  rela- 
tives in  Kentucky  before  they  take  up  the  line  of  march  for 
the  seat  of  government.  Success  to  our  talented  member  of 
Congress!  He  will  find  many  men  in  Congress  who  possess 
twice  the  good  looks,  and  not  half  the  good  sense,  of  our  own 
representative." 

As  the  steamer  plowed  up  the  Ohio  with  the  Indiana  bank 
on  one  side  and  the  wooded  shoreline  of  old  Kentucky,  dressed 
in  autumn  coloring,  on  the  other,  Lincoln  was  among  familiar 
scenes  again.   Recollections  of  his  early  youth  must  have  crowd- 


124  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

ed  thick  upon  him:  there  was  Thompson's  Landing,  where 
Thomas  Lincoln  and  his  little  family  had  crossed  the  Ohio 
as  they  journeyed  northward  from  Rolling  Fork  to  their  new 
home  in  the  wilds  of  Indiana;  here  was  the  broad,  sluggish 
mouth  of  Anderson  Creek,  where  Lincoln  had  worked  for  six 
dollars  a  month  and  board  on  a  ferry  belonging  to  James  Tay- 
lor; and  Bates'  Landing,  where  he  had  earned  his  first  dollar 
for  less  than  a  full  day's  work  when  he  sculled  two  travelers 
and  their  trunks  out  to  a  passing  steamer;  yonder  on  the  high 
bank  of  the  Kentucky  shore  stood  the  big  log  house  of  Squire 
Samuel  Pate,  where  he  had  been  arrested  by  John  T.  Dill, 
charged  with  the  violation  of  a  ferry  privilege,  and  in  the  low- 
ceilinged  room  that  faced  the  river  had  been  tried  and  ac- 
quitted.9 At  the  Falls  of  the  Ohio  the  slow-moving  boat  passed 
through  the  Portland  Canal,  where  Lincoln  and  his  stepbrother, 
John  D.  Johnston,  had  worked  as  day  laborers  for  a  short  time 
in  1827. 

The  little  party  did  not  stop  in  Louisville,  although  Lin- 
coln's intimate  friend,  Joshua  Speed,  lived  near  by,  but  caught 
the  first  train  east,  and  as  the  poky  little  locomotive  puffed  up 
the  winding  grades  toward  the  Bluegrass,  Lincoln  could  not 
help  marking  the  contrast  between  his  first  visit  to  Lexington 
and  the  present  journey. 

It  was  a  raw,  blustery  November  day  when  the  Lincolns 
arrived  at  their  destination.  All  was  bustle  and  expectancy  at 
the  Todd  home  on  West  Main  Street.  Mammy  Sally  hurried 
Emilie  and  her  two  little  sisters,  Elodie  and  Katherine,  into 
their  crimson  merino  dresses,  white  kid  boots,  and  ruffled  white 
muslin  aprons. 

Presently,  Mrs.  Todd's  nephew,  Joseph  Humphreys,  bound- 
ed up  the  steps.  He  had  ridden  from  Frankfort  on  the  same 
train  with  the  Lincolns  without  knowing  who  they  were,  walk- 
ing the  short  distance  from  the  depot  while  the  Todd  coachman 
hunted  up  the  baggage  of  the  guests  he  had  come  to  meet. 

"Aunt  Betsy,"  said  young  Humphreys  to  Mrs.  Todd,  "I  was 
never  so  glad  to  get  off  a  train  in  my  life.    There  were  two 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  125 

lively  youngsters  on  board  who  kept  the  whole  train  in  a  tur- 
moil, and  their  long-legged  father,  instead  of  spanking  the 
brats,  looked  pleased  as  Punch  and  sided  with  and  abetted  the 
older  one  in  mischief." 

Just  then  he  glanced  out  of  the  window  at  the  sound  of 
carriage  wheels,  and  there  in  front  of  the  house  was  the  "long- 
legged"  man  and  the  two  "brats." 

"Good  Lord,  there  they  are  now,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  made 
a  hasty  exit,  and  the  nephew  from  Frankfort  was  seen  no  more 
during  Mary's  visit.10 

Lincoln,  wearing  a  close-fitting  cap  and  heavy  ear  muffs, 
got  out  of  the  barouche  and  assisted  Mary  and  the  children  up 
the  broad  stone  steps  to  the  door  of  the  wide  hall  thrown  open 
to  receive  them.  The  greetings  of  that  homecoming  stamped 
themselves  indelibly  upon  the  memory  of  little  Emilie. 

The  white  family  stood  near  the  front  door  with  welcoming 
arms  and,  in  true  patriarchal  style,  our  colored  contingent  filled 
the  rear  of  the  hall  to  shake  hands  with  the  long-absent  one  and 
"make  a'miration"  over  the  babies.  Mary  came  in  first  with  little 
Eddie,  the  baby,  in  her  arms.  To  my  mind  she  was  lovely;  clear, 
sparkling  blue  eyes,  lovely  smooth  white  skin  with  a  faint,  wild 
rose  color  in  her  cheeks,  and  glossy  light-brown  hair,  which  fell  in 
soft  short  curls  behind  each  ear.  She  was  then  about  twenty-nine 
years  of  age. 

Mr.  Lincoln  followed  her  into  the  hall  with  his  little  son,  Robert 
Todd,  in  his  arms.  He  put  the  little  fellow  on  the  floor,  and  as 
he  arose,  I  remember  thinking  of  "Jack  and  the  Bean  Stalk,"  and 
feared  he  might  be  the  hungry  giant  of  the  story— he  was  so  tall 
and  looked  so  big  with  a  long,  full,  black  cloak  over  his  shoulders, 
and  he  wore  a  fur  cap  with  ear  straps  which  allowed  but  little  of 
his  face  to  be  seen.  Expecting  to  hear  the  "fe,  fi,  fo,  fum,"  I  shrank 
closer  to  my  mother,  and  tried  to  hide  behind  her  voluminous 
skirts.  After  shaking  hands  with  all  the  grownups,  he  turned  and, 
lifting  me  in  his  arms,  said  "So  this  is  Little  Sister."  His  voice  and 
smile  banished  my  fear  of  the  giant.11 

For  the  next  three  weeks  Abraham  Lincoln  enjoyed  im- 
mensely the  first  real  vacation  of  his  life.    The  cotton  mills  of 


126  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

Oldham,  Todd  &  Company  were  in  full  operation  with  slave 
labor  at  the  village  of  Sandersville  on  the  Georgetown  Pike, 
and  Lincoln  drove  out  there  frequently  with  his  brother-in- 
law,  Levi  Todd,  assistant  manager  and  bookkeeper  of  the  con- 
cern. There  were  elderly  people  in  Lexington  who  talked  to 
Lincoln  about  his  great-uncle  Thomas.12  John  Keiser,  vener- 
able proprietor  of  the  Bruen  House  tavern,  remembered  him 
and  doubtless  described  the  terrific  thrashing  that  Thomas  had 
administered  to  Peter  Warfield  in  the  yard  of  the  Indian  Queen 
nearly  forty  years  before.  From  such  sources  Lincoln  more 
than  likely  heard  much  about  this  kinsman,  his  domestic  trou- 
bles and  his  ultimate  ruin. 

The  days  were  full  of  visits  to  Mary's  many  relatives  who 
lived  in  town  and  in  the  country.  Grandmother  Parker,  to 
whom  Mary  had  been  deeply  devoted  since  the  death  of  her 
own  mother,  still  lived  in  the  fine  brick  mansion  on  Short 
Street,  next  door  to  the  house  where  Mary  was  born,  and  here 
the  Illinois  congressman  and  his  wife  were  always  warmly  re- 
ceived. 

Lincoln  was  deeply  impressed  with  this  quaint,  slaveholding 
old  town  with  its  fine  estates  and  elegant  mansions  such  as  he 
had  certainly  never  seen  anywhere  else.  Near  the  very  heart 
of  the  city  were  manor  houses  set  back  in  landscaped  gardens:13 
"Alta  Myra,"  belonging  to  John  R.  Cleary;  "Babel,"  the  resi- 
dence of  General  Leslie  Combs;  Joel  Johnson's  "Castle  Hag- 
gin";  Elisha  Warfield's  "The  Meadows";  "Wickliffe  House," 
owned  by  Robert  Wickliffe,  and  Chief  Justice  Robertson's 
"Rokeby  Hall." 

With  much  leisure  on  his  hands  Lincoln  now  had  an  op- 
portunity to  study  the  institution  of  slavery  at  close  range.  In 
the  homes  of  relatives  and  friends  he  saw  contented  servants, 
born  and  reared  for  generations  in  the  families  of  their  present 
masters,  who  served  them  with  unswerving  loyalty  and  devo- 
tion, and  who  in  turn  were  held  in  genuine  affection.  It  was 
apparent  that  the  servants  of  the  Todd  household  were  privi- 
leged characters,  while  the  aged  Widow  Parker  was  utterly 
dependent  on  her  three  old  servants,  Ann,  Cyrus,  and  Prudence. 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  127 

These  Negroes  under  no  circumstances  would  have  accepted 
freedom  from  their  beloved  "white  folks." 

Yet  Lincoln  could  see  enough  to  know  that  even  in  Lex- 
ington slavery  had  its  darker  side.  Many  of  the  able-bodied 
white  men  of  the  town  and  county  were  absent  with  the  army 
in  Mexico.  Most  of  the  slaves  on  the  smaller  plantations  were 
now  under  little  or  no  restraint.  The  pilfering  and  other  law- 
lessness among  the  Negroes,  resulting  from  these  changed  con- 
ditions, had  produced  a  vague,  covert  unrest  that  alarmed  the 
timid  and  disturbed  even  the  more  levelheaded  citizens  of  the 
community. 

Cassilly,  a  slave  girl,  was  under  indictment  for  "mixing  an 
ounce  of  pounded  glass  with  gravy"  and  giving  it  to  her  master, 
John  Hamilton,  and  his  wife  Martha.  Another  female  slave 
was  under  sentence  of  death  for  having  "mixed  and  mingled 
a  certain  deadly  poison,  to  wit,  the  seed  of  the  Jamestown  weed 
pulverized  in  certain  coffee,"  which  she  had  given  to  her  mas- 
ter, Hector  P.  Lewis,  "knowingly,  wilfully,  feloniously  of  her 
malice  aforethought,  with  the  evil  intent  that  death  should 
ensue  to  the  said  Lewis."14  On  the  night  of  November  7  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  Warren,  an  aged  and  highly  respected  woman,  was 
murdered  by  persons  thought  to  be  slaves,  and  Mayor  Henry 
offered  a  reward  of  $500  for  the  capture  of  the  perpetrators  of 
the  crime. 

Elizabeth  Humphreys  told  Mary  and  her  husband  what  had 
happened  to  little  Alec  Todd,  then  as  always  Mary's  favorite 
brother.  The  Todds  had  hired  a  slave  girl  named  Celia  from 
the  Brands,  who  had  bought  her  at  auction  in  New  Orleans, 
as  a  nurse  for  their  small  son.  However,  Elizabeth  soon  noticed 
that  the  little  boy  would  "shrink  and  hold  back"  from  Celia 
whenever  she  touched  him.  After  Mrs.  Todd  had  been  in- 
formed about  this  by  her  niece,  they  "examined  the  little  fel- 
low's body  time  &  again  but  never  found  a  mark  of  any  kind 
or  a  bruise." 

One  evening  when  Robert  S.  Todd  and  his  wife  were  at- 
tending a  party,  Elizabeth  sat  reading  in  the  back  parlor  with 
Alec  snuggled  contentedly  by  her  side.    Celia  came  in  to  put 


128  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

him  to  bed,  but  "he  drew  back  with  such  a  look  of  horror  and 
fear"  that  Elizabeth  took  him  away  from  the  girl,  who  by  this 
time  was  very  angry,  put  him  on  the  sofa,  and  said  that  she 
would  take  him  to  bed  when  he  got  sleepy.  Upon  investigation 
the  household  was  horrified  to  learn  that  the  vicious  young 
Negress,  when  she  got  the  boy  to  his  room,  frequently  grabbed 
him  "by  the  feet  and  held  him  against  the  wall  with  his  head 
down  until  he  was  fairly  black  in  the  face."  Even  now  old 
Nelson  clenched  his  fists  and  gritted  his  few  remaining  teeth, 
while  Mammy  Sally  snorted  and  rolled  her  eyes  in  speechless 
indignation.15 

The  black  locust  whipping  post  erected  in  1826  had  so 
decayed  that  it  was  no  longer  fit  for  use,  and  the  county  court 
at  a  special  session  "ordered  that  the  three-pronged  poplar  tree 
in  the  Court-House  yard  immediately  North  of  the  Barry  mon- 
ument be  and  the  same  is  hereby  established  the  public  whip- 
ping-post of  this  county."16 

The  Observer  was  full  of  advertisements  about  runaway 
slaves.  "Joshua,"  about  forty  years  old,  black,  heavy  set,  with  a 
scar  on  his  neck,  "who  is  slow  of  speech,  with  a  slight  choking 
when  agitated  and  who  professes  to  be  a  preacher,"  was  being 
sought  by  his  master.  It  was  supposed  that  he  had  gone  to 
Ohio,  "where  his  wife  (a  free  mulatto  woman,  named  Martha 
Ann  Skinner)  has  lately  gone,"  and  a  reward  of  $500  was  of- 
fered for  his  arrest  and  confinement  in  jail.  Sam  F.  Patterson 
was  seeking  "a  mulatto  slave  named  Anderson  who  has  a  rather 
downcast  look  when  spoken  to,"  and  a  black  boy  "named  Ned, 
about  twenty-five  years  old,"  had  run  away  from  his  master, 
Neal  McCann.17 

And  every  time  Lincoln  picked  up  the  local  newspapers  he 
saw  the  following  notices  in  bold  type: 

Negroes  for  Sale. 
35  negroes  in  lots  to  suit  purchasers  or  the  whole,  consisting  of 
field  hands,  house  servants,  a  good  carriage-driver,  hostlers,  a  black- 
smith, and  women  &  children  of  all  descriptions. 

James  H.  Farish. 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  129 

To  Planters  &  Owners  of  Slaves. 
Those  who  have  slaves  rendered  unfit  for  labor  by  Yaws,  Scrof- 
ula, Chronic  Diarrhea,  Negro  Consumption,  Rheumatism  &c,  and 
who  wish  to  dispose  of  them  on  reasonable  terms  will  address  J. 
King,  No.  29  Campst  St.,  New  Orleans.18 

If  Lincoln  did  not  already  understand  the  awful  import  of 
this  last  advertisement,  his  father-in-law,  familiar  with  condi- 
tions in  the  Deep  South,  was  able  to  advise  him  fully.  Many 
plantations  in  Louisiana  and  the  other  Gulf  States  were  op- 
erated entirely  by  hired  overseers  whose  salaries  were  regulated 
by  the  net  cash  profits  of  each  crop  year.  The  owners  of  these 
vast  estates  seldom  visited  them  more  than  once  or  twice  a 
year  and  took  no  part  whatever  in  the  management  of  their 
slaves.  Greed,  unrestrained  by  the  humanitarian  impulses  that 
usually  came  from  direct  contact  between  the  bondman  and 
his  master,  had  developed  a  ghastly  practice  more  or  less  preva- 
lent in  those  sections.  Old,  broken-down  Negroes,  suffering 
from  hopelessly  chronic  diseases,  were  purchased  for  a  few 
dollars  apiece  in  Kentucky  and  other  border  states,  shipped 
south,  and  furiously  worked  under  the  lash  until  they  literally 
fell  in  their  tracks  and  died  in  the  muddy  ditches  of  the  rice 
fields.19 

A  South  Carolina  periodical  carried  the  following  item: 

OVERSEERS  READ   THIS! 

It  will  be  remembered  by  the  overseers  of  Edgefield,  that  Col. 
M.  Frazer  has  offered  a  fine  English  lever  watch  as  a  reward  to  the 
overseer  (working  not  less  than  10  slaves)  who  will  report  the  best 
managed  plantation,  largest  crop  per  head  of  cotton,  corn,  wheat, 
and  pork  for  the  present  season.  Col.  Frazer  has  just  returned  from 
the  North  and  laid  before  us  this  elegant  prize.  Remember  then, 
that  the  prize  is  now  fairly  upon  the  stake  and  that  the  longest  pole 
knocks  down  the  persimmon.    Whip!    Whip!    Hurrah!!!20 

Lincoln,  however,  did  not  need  to  depend  on  what  he  read 
or  heard  in  Lexington  about  the  iniquity  of  slavery,  for  the 
evidences  of  it  were  all  about  him.  The  slave  jail  of  W.  A. 
Pullum,  an  extensive   Negro  dealer,   stood  in   plain  view   of 


130  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

''Grandma"  Parker's  home  and  only  a  few  steps  from  her  side 
porch.  The  front  of  the  establishment  was  a  two-story  brick 
house  just  around  the  corner  on  Broadway.  The  trader  and 
his  family  lived  upstairs.  The  downstairs  consisted  of  a  large 
double  room  furnished  with  tables  and  chairs,  with  a  liquor 
bar  in  one  end  and  a  fireplace  in  the  other,  where  dealers, 
drivers,  and  others  connected  with  the  slave  traffic  congregated, 
and  where  Negroes  in  cold  weather  were  exhibited  to  prospec- 
tive buyers.  In  the  yard  at  the  rear  of  the  building  were  rows 
of  slave  pens,  eight  feet  square,  seven  feet  high,  constructed  on 
damp  brick  floors  covered  with  vermin-infested  straw,  with 
tiny  barred  windows  near  the  roof  and  heavy,  rivet-studded, 
iron-grated  doors. 

From  the  terrace  of  the  Parker  lawn  Abraham  Lincoln  could 
look  down  over  the  spiked  palings  that  separated  the  Pullum 
property  from  Mechanics  Alley  into  the  yard  of  the  slave  jail, 
and  from  the  "private"  whipping  post  that  stood  in  one  cor- 
ner he  could  hear  those  cries  which  another  visitor  to  Lexington 
years  before  had  characterized  as  "the  knell  of  Kentucky  lib- 
erty." 

Megowan's  jail  stood  at  the  corner  of  Short  and  Mulberry 
(now  Limestone)  streets,  one  block  east  of  the  courthouse— a 
grim-looking  structure  with  high  massive  walls,  where  most 
of  the  runaways,  Negroes  awaiting  execution,  and  those  about 
to  be  sold  south  for  incorrigibility  were  confined. 

It  is  impossible,  of  course,  to  determine  the  number  of 
slaves  that  were  sold  at  auction  during  these  weeks  of  Lincoln's 
visit  in  Lexington.  Not  many  days,  however,  went  by  without 
the  sale  of  one  or  more  Negroes  at  public  outcry  on  Cheapside 
or  at  the  block  in  the  courthouse  yard,  and  Saturdays  and  court 
days  were  the  occasions  when  most  of  these  auctions  took  place. 
The  Bluegrass  metropolis  would  soon  become  the  largest  slave 
market  in  Kentucky. 

Court  day  was  a  peculiar  and  a  picturesque  institution  in 
central  Kentucky.    On  the  second  Monday  in  each  month  the 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  131 

justices  of  the  peace,  who  constituted  the  county  court,  assem- 
bled at  the  historic  old  edifice  on  the  public  square  in  Lex- 
ington to  transact  the  people's  business.  But  the  crowd  that 
thronged  Cheapside  on  such  days  from  dawn  to  dusk  had  little 
or  no  interest  in  the  deliberations  of  the  squires  around  the 
long  pine  table  in  the  courthouse.  By  the  custom  of  years  this 
was  a  time  when  the  rural  folk  of  Fayette  and  neighboring 
counties  took  a  day  off  and  came  to  town  to  shop  and  trade, 
drink  with  their  friends,  swap  horses,  see  the  sights,  and  enjoy 
themselves,  each  according  to  his  own  fancy. 

Cheapside  had  been  the  public  meeting  place  since  the 
town  of  Lexington  was  born,  and  here  on  court  day  junk 
dealers,  planters,  traders,  and  those  nondescripts  called  "poor 
whites"  assembled  at  an  early  hour  with  livestock  of  every 
kind  and  description  and  sundry  other  articles  for  barter  and 
sale.  By  noontime  one  unfamiliar  with  this  institution,  stand- 
ing at  the  second-story  window  of  the  courthouse,  looked  down 
upon  a  strange  and  novel  spectacle:  a  bit  of  grotesque  yet 
colorful  pageantry  which  only  the  gregarious  nature  of  the 
Kentuckian  could  have  produced. 

Old,  buck-kneed  plug  horses,  with  now  and  then  a  thor- 
oughbred or  blooded  saddle  nag;  shaggy  mules  with  cockleburs 
in  their  tails;  cows  and  calves;  sway-backed  brood  mares  with 
wobbly,  spindle-legged  colts  at  their  heels;  Negro  men,  women, 
half-grown  boys  and  girls,  even  children:  all  were  being  offered 
for  sale  under  the  hammers  of  shrill-voiced  auctioneers.  Little 
groups  of  men  squatted  on  the  low  wooden  benches  near  the 
iron  fence  that  ran  along  the  edge  of  the  courthouse  yard, 
puffing  their  pipes,  chewing  tobacco,  whittling,  and  swapping 
stories.  Others  gathered  around  the  nostrum  vender,  gaudily 
dressed  in  a  stovepipe  hat,  brocaded  waistcoat,  with  bushy  hair 
falling  over  the  greasy  velvet  collar  of  his  knee-length  dress 
coat,  who  glibly  proclaimed  the  marvelous  virtues  of  "Dr. 
Sherman's  All-Healing  Balsam,"  "Old  Sachem  Bitters,"  or 
"Hart's  Vegetable  Compound  for  Epileptic  Fits."  Farmer  boys 
in  their  best  breeches  of  homespun  jean  stood  in  creaking 


132  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

"Sunday"  brogan  shoes,  listening  to  the  blind,  toothless  men- 
dicant who  sat  on  a  curbstone  with  a  tin  cup  about  his  neck 
and  sang  plaintive  ballads  in  a  cracked,  quavering  voice  to  the 
halting  accompaniment  of  his  squeaky  fiddle. 

Cheapside  on  court  day  was  democracy  in  the  raw.  Men 
who  moved  in  vastly  different  social  orbits  on  other  days  met 
here  on  terms  of  perfect  equality.  Before  the  polished  bars  of 
the  tippling  houses  he  whom  the  Negroes  called  "pore  white 
trash"  sipped  his  apple  brandy  toddy  shoulder  to  shoulder  with 
the  julep-drinking  country  gentleman  in  his  broad-brimmed 
hat  and  whipcord  riding  breeches  tucked  into  soft  leather 
boots,  and  the  town  dandy  clad  in  broadcloth  pantaloons,  swal- 
low-tailed coat,  silk  ruffled  shirt,  and  white  beaver  hat.  Here 
the  talk  was  free  and  easy.  The  weather,  crops,  politics,  and 
horses  were  discussed,  and  every  man  had  his  say.21 

Such  was  the  scene  that  Lincoln  must  have  witnessed  on 
Monday,  November  15,  1847.  On  that  day  five  slaves  were  sold 
to  satisfy  a  judgment  that  Robert  S.  Todd  and  one  of  his 
partners  had  obtained  against  their  owner,  John  F.  Leavy, 
which  directed  "that  the  negroes,  viz:  Nathaniel,  Ned,  Dick, 
Emily,  &  Nelly,  alias  Molley  be  sold  at  the  court-house  door 
in  Lexington  to  the  highest  bidder."22 

During  the  entire  period  of  Lincoln's  stay  in  Lexington, 
Henry  Clay  was  at  "Ashland,"  and  Mary  took  her  husband  to 
see  him.  Though  his  son,  Henry  Clay,  Jr.,  had  fallen  on  a 
Mexican  battlefield,  the  old  man  bore  his  sorrow  with  calm 
fortitude.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his  bereavement  the  Sage  of 
Ashland  pondered  the  grave  questions  that  then  vexed  his 
country. 

On  November  3  the  Observer  announced  that  on  Saturday, 
November  13,  at  the  courthouse  Clay  would  deliver  a  speech 
on  the  conduct  of  the  Mexican  War.  In  the  Singleton  Will 
case  a  few  days  before,  Lincoln  was  very  likely  present  during 
Clay's  masterly  argument  which  consumed  more  than  three 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  133 

hours,  and  now  he  had  an  opportunity  to  hear  the  famous 
orator  in  his  favorite  role  from  the  hustings. 

By  Friday  evening  the  taverns  were  packed  with  visitors, 
many  of  whom,  like  Morton  McMichael,  editor  of  the  Phila- 
delphia North  American,  had  come  hundreds  of  miles  to  hear 
Clay's  address.  Next  morning  the  crowd  was  so  large,  in  spite 
of  the  rain,  that  the  meeting  was  adjourned  to  a  large  brick 
structure  on  Water  Street,  known  as  the  Lower  Market-House, 
where  a  temporary  platform  had  been  erected  in  one  end  of 
the  building.  Here,  with  Judge  George  Robertson,  the  chair- 
man, seated  on  one  side,  and  Robert  S.  Todd,  vice-chairman, 
on  the  other,  before  an  audience  that  contained  representatives 
from  a  majority  of  the  states  of  the  Union,  Henry  Clay  de- 
livered one  of  the  ablest  and  most  statesmanlike  addresses  of 
his  long  career. 

No  ordinary  occasion  would  have  drawn  me  from  the  retirement 
in  which  I  live  [began  Mr.  Clay] ;  but  whilst  a  single  pulsation  of 
the  human  heart  remains,  it  should,  if  necessary,  be  dedicated  to 
the  service  of  one's  country.  ...  I  have  come  here  with  no  purpose 
to  attempt  to  make  a  fine  speech,  or  any  ambitious  oratorical  dis- 
play. I  have  brought  with  me  no  rhetorical  bouquets  to  throw 
into  this  assembly.  In  the  circle  of  the  year,  autumn  has  come,  and 
the  season  of  flowers  has  passed  away.  In  the  progress  of  years,  my 
springtime  has  gone  by,  and  I  too  am  in  the  autumn  of  life,  and 
feel  the  frost  of  age.  My  desire  and  aim  are  to  address  you,  earnestly, 
calmly,  seriously  and  plainly,  upon  the  grave  and  momentous  sub- 
jects which  have  brought  us  together.  And  I  am  most  solicitous 
that  not  a  solitary  word  may  fall  from  me,  offensive  to  any  party 
or  person  in  the  whole  extent  of  the  Union. 

The  speaker  argued  at  length  that  the  Mexican  War  would 
have  been  averted  had  not  General  Taylor  been  ordered  "to 
transport  his  cannon,  and  to  plant  them  in  a  warlike  attitude, 
opposite  Matamoras,  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Rio  Bravo  within 
the  very  disputed  district"  then  the  subject  of  diplomatic  ne- 
gotiation.   "This  is  no  war  of  defense,"  exclaimed  Clay,  "but 


134  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

one  unnecessary  and  of  offensive  aggression.  It  is  Mexico  that 
is  defending  her  firesides,  her  castles  and  her  altars,  not  we. 
But,"  said  he,  "without  indulging  in  an  unnecessary  restrospect 
and  useless  reproaches  in  the  past,  all  hearts  and  heads  should 
unite  in  the  patriotic  effort  to  bring  it  to  a  satisfactory  close.  .  .  . 
This  is  the  important  subject  upon  which  I  desire  to  consult 
and  to  commune  with  you." 

The  objects  and  purposes  of  the  war  had  never  been  de- 
fined, Clay  said,  by  either  Congress  or  President  Polk.  No  one 
knew  what  they  were,  nor  when  they  might  be  achieved.  "It 
is  the  duty  of  Congress,  by  some  deliberate  and  authentic  act," 
continued  the  speaker,  "to  declare  for  what  objects  the  present 
war  shall  be  longer  prosecuted."  What  should  they  be?  Should 
this  war  be  waged  for  the  purpose  of  conquering  and  annexing 
Mexico,  "in  all  its  boundless  extent  to  the  United  States?  Does 
any  considerate  man  believe  it  possible  that  two  such  immense 
countries,  with  territories  of  nearly  equal  extent,  with  popu- 
lation so  incongruous,  so  different  in  race,  in  language,  in 
religion  and  in  laws,  could  be  blended  together  in  one  har- 
monious mass  and  happily  governed  by  one  common  authority?" 

Should  any  territory  be  wrested  from  Mexico  by  way  of  in- 
demnity for  the  purpose  of  introducing  slavery  into  it? 

My  opinions  on  the  subject  of  slavery  are  well  known  [said 
Clay] .  They  have  the  merit,  if  it  be  one,  of  consistency,  uniformity 
and  long  duration.  I  have  ever  regarded  slavery  as  a  great  evil,  a 
wrong,  for  the  present  I  fear,  an  irremedial  wrong  to  its  unfortunate 
victims.  I  should  rejoice  if  not  a  single  slave  breathed  the  air  or 
was  within  the  limits  of  our  country.  Among  the  resolutions  which 
it  is  my  intent  to  present  for  your  consideration  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  address  one  proposes  in  your  behalf  and  mine,  to  disavow, 
in  the  most  positive  manner,  any  desire  on  our  part  to  acquire  any 
foreign  territory  whatever  for  the  purpose  of  introducing  slavery 
into  it. 

The  speaker  referred  at  length  to  the  American  Coloniza- 
tion Society— its  aims,  its  hopes,  its  failures— and  the  gloomy 
prospects  for  the  end  of  slavery  for  generations  yet  to  come. 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  135 

"But  I  forbear,"  he  said  in  closing;  "I  will  no  longer  trespass 
upon  your  patience  or  further  tax  my  own  voice,  impaired  by 
a  speech  of  more  than  three  hours'  duration  which  professional 
duty  required  me  to  make  only  a  few  days  ago." 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  two-and-a-half-hour  speech  a  series 
of  resolutions  was  "almost  unanimously"  adopted  by  which  the 
meeting  went  on  record  "that  the  immediate  occasion  of  hos- 
tilities" was  caused  by  the  removal  of  General  Taylor's  army 
into  "territory  then  under  the  jurisdiction  of  Mexico  and  in- 
habited by  its  citizens,"  and  that  "we  do  positively  and  em- 
phatically disclaim  and  disavow  any  wish  or  desire  on  our  part, 
to  acquire  any  foreign  territory  whatever,  for  the  purpose  of 
propagating  slavery  or  introducing  slaves  from  the  United  States 
into  such  foreign  territory." 

Gallant  Harry  had  again  captivated  his  audience.  "It  seems 
that  his  friends  never  get  tired  of  listening  to  his  rich  voice  and 
his  uncommon  good  sense,"  said  the  Observer.  "The  speaker 
himself  scarcely  seemed  to  be  an  old  man."23 

The  meeting  at  the  Lower  Market-House  was  more  than 
an  ordinary  event  in  Lincoln's  life.  Though  thirty-eight  years 
of  age  and  about  to  enter  the  national  forum  himself,  he  had 
heard  only  one  other  speaker  of  nationwide  renown.24  Clay's 
speech  wholly  lacked  oratorical  frills,  but  the  charm  of  its  de- 
livery and  its  "uncommon  good  sense"  impressed  Lincoln  deep- 
ly as  he  resumed  his  browsing  in  the  Todd  library. 

Poking  about  in  these  well-stocked  bookcases  was  one  of 
his  chief  diversions.  Absorbed  in  some  interesting  volume,  he 
would  sit  for  hours  in  the  rear  parlor  or  in  the  passageway 
upstairs  where  some  of  the  books  were  kept,  wholly  oblivious 
of  the  romping  and  chatter  of  Bob  and  Emilie  and  the  other 
little  Todds.25  The  Todd  books  were  a  varied  assortment. 
Among  the  several  hundred  items  there  was  a  copy  of  The 
Messages  of  the  Presidents,  Gibbon's  History  of  the  Decline 
and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  Prentice's  Life  of  Henry  Clay 
in  two  volumes,  a  set  of  Shakespeare  in  eight  volumes,  the  Life 
of  Oliver  Cromwell,  the  poems  of  Robert  Burns,  the  Life  of 


136  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Napoleon,  Byron's  Don  Juan,  Pope  in  five  volumes,  and  Niles' 
Register  in  fifty-eight  volumes.26 

But  the  book  that  Lincoln  read  more  than  all  the  rest  was 
a  volume  of  verse  entitled:  Elegant  Extracts,  or  Useful  and 
Entertaining  Passages  from  the  Best  English  Authors  and  Trans- 
lations, and  he  marked  or  underscored  heavily  with  a  lead 
pencil  such  of  these  poems,  or  excerpts  from  them,  as  particu- 
larly struck  his  fancy.27  He  committed  Bryant's  Thanatopsis 
to  memory  and  repeated  it  to  the  members  of  the  Todd  house- 
hold. While  reading  the  volume  he  checked  the  familiar  quo- 
tation from  Pope: 

Know  then  thyself,  presume  not  God  to  scan; 
The  proper  study  of  Mankind  is  man. 

He  made  marginal  notations  opposite  a  passage  from  Blair's 
The  Grave: 

The  last  end 
Of  the  good  man  is  peace.   How  calm  his  exit. 
Night  dews  fall  not  more  gently  to  the  ground, 
Nor  weary,  worn-out  winds  expire  so  soft. 

and  Cowper's  lines  from  Charity  dealing  with  slavery: 

But  Ah!    What  wish  can  prosper,  or  what  prayer 
For  merchants  rich  in  cargoes  of  despair, 
Who  drive  a  loathsome  traffic,  gauge  and  span, 
And  buy  the  muscles  and  the  bones  of  man? 
The  tender  ties  of  father,  husband,  friend, 
All  bonds  of  nature  in  that  moment  end; 
And  each  endures,  while  yet  he  draws  his  breath, 
A  stroke  as  fatal  as  the  scythe  of  death. 

He  was  particularly  impressed  with  Cowper's  poem,  On 
Receipt  of  My  Mother's  Picture,  and  drew  a  hand  with  the 
index  finger  pointing  to  the  stanza: 

Oh  that  those  lips  had  language!    Life  has  pass'd 
With  me  but  roughly  since  I  heard  thee  last. 
Those  lips  are  thine— thy  own  sweet  smile  I  see, 
The  same  that  oft  in  childhood  solaced  me. 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  137 

Lincoln's  approval  of  certain  portions  of  a  poem  entitled, 

Love  of  Fame: 

A  dearth  of  words,  a  woman  need  not  fear; 
But  'tis  a  task  indeed  to  learn  to  hear. 

Doubly  like  Echo  sound  is  her  delight, 

And  the  last  word  is  her  eternal  right. 

Is't  not  enough  plagues,  wars  and  famines  rise 

To  lash  our  crimes,  but  must  our  wives  be  wise? 

probably  subjected  him  to  rather  sharp  badinage  from  Mary, 
but  if  so,  she  may  have  been  somewhat  mollified  by  another 
passage  that  he  had  marked  which,  although  enumerating  cer- 
tain feminine  frailties,  has  an  assuaging  sentiment  in  the  con- 
cluding lines: 

O,  Woman!    in  our  hours  of  ease 
Uncertain,  coy  and  hard  to  please, 
And  variable  as  the  shade 
By  the  light  quivering  aspen  made; 
When  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow 
A  ministering  angel  thou! 

Lincoln  also  spent  much  time  about  the  courthouse  and 
the  public  square,  just  as  he  did  back  home.  The  presiding 
judge,  Richard  A.  Buckner,  intimate  friend  of  Robert  S.  Todd, 
and  many  of  the  lawyers  had  their  offices  in  the  low  brick 
buildings  on  the  east  side  of  the  courthouse  known  as  "Jordan's 
Row,"  and  here  Lincoln  loafed,  swapped  stories,  and  talked 
politics  with  Judge  Buckner,  Judge  Robertson,  George  B.  Kin- 
kead,  his  wife's  cousins,  John  C.  Breckinridge  and  Charles  D. 
Carr,  John  B.  Huston,  and  other  members  of  the  local  bar. 

Judge  Kinkead  later  remembered  two  stories  which  Lincoln 
had  told  about  himself.  In  the  fall  of  1841  Lincoln  had  visited 
Joshua  F.  Speed  at  "Farmington,"  the  old  Speed  plantation 
near  Louisville.  Almost  every  day  he  walked  into  town  and 
sat  in  the  office  of  Joshua's  older  brother  James,  reading  his 
books  and  talking  over  his  studies  and  aspirations  with  the 
courtly,  scholarly  lawyer. 


138  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

Late  one  evening,  as  Lincoln  trudged  back  to  "Farming- 
ton,"  three  thugs  sprang  from  a  dark  alley,  and  one  of  them 
flourished  a  long,  keen  pruning  knife  that  glittered  ominously 
in  the  moonlight.  Making  passes  extremely  close  to  Lincoln's 
long,  bony  neck,  the  highwayman  queried,  "Can  you  lend  me 
$5.00  on  that?"  Lincoln  hastily  reached  for  the  only  bill  he  had 
in  his  pocket:  "There's  $10.00  neighbor,"  he  replied;  "now 
put  up  your  scythe."28 

Joshua  Speed  was  then  ardently  courting  comely,  black-eyed 
Fanny  Henning,  who  lived  with  a  devoted  uncle,  John  William- 
son, on  a  nearby  farm.  Speed  was  always  inventing  excuses 
to  make  apparently  casual  calls  at  Uncle  John's  residence,  and 
one  day,  after  having  been  there  once,  he  took  Lincoln  on  the 
cars  to  Lexington— his  first  visit  here— in  order  to  have  an  ex- 
cuse to  drop  in  again  that  evening  on  his  way  back  home. 

Speed  complained  bitterly  that  he  and  Fanny  could  never 
find  themselves  outside  the  presence  of  Uncle  John— a  violent 
Whig  who  insisted  on  talking  politics  by  the  hour  with  Speed, 
who  was  also  affiliated  with  that  party.  Finally  Lincoln  thought 
up  a  scheme  which  might  give  Speed  his  chance  with  Fanny. 
That  night,  when  they  reached  the  Williamson  home,  Lincoln, 
then  having  completed  his  fourth  term  as  a  Whig  member  of 
the  Illinois  legislature,  pretended  to  be  a  Democrat  and  oc- 
cupied the  old  gentleman  so  completely  in  argument  that  the 
two  young  people  were  permitted  to  enjoy  a  rare,  uninter- 
rupted evening  which  went  far  toward  their  early  engagement.29 

Public  attention  was  now  focused  once  more  upon  the  ad- 
venturous editor  of  The  True  American.  At  the  first  call  to 
arms  against  Mexico,  Cassius  M.  Clay  had  promptly  dropped 
his  feud  with  the  slave  power  and  shouldered  a  musket  as  a 
private  in  that  organization  of  glorious  traditions,  the  Lex- 
ington Light  Infantry,  whose  captain  he  had  been  in  former 
days.  Before  leaving  for  the  front,  however,  the  company  had 
assembled  in  the  courthouse  yard,  and  on  the  spot  where  he 
had  recently  been  denounced  as  a  "damned  nigger  agitator" 


A  LARGE    NUMBER 

£  NEGROES  4 

WANTED! 

The  undersigned  wishes  to  purchase  throughout  the 
year,  a  large  number  of 

Bmm  A    HEALTH? 


OF  BOTH  SEXES. 

FOR  which  the  HIGHEST  PRICE  IN 
CASH  will  be  paid  at  his  Jail,  opposite  the 
County  Jail,  Short  Street,  Lexington,  Ky.,  where  ei- 
ther himself  or  his  Ageuts  L.  C.  &  A.  0.  Robards,  at 
all  times  may  be  found. 

Any  letters  addressed  to  me  concerning  negroes, 
shall  have  prompt  attention. 

Dec.  16-25  6mo.  R.    W.  LUCAS. 


Nigger  Trader"  advertisement.    Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter 


Slave  shackles 


"Nigger  Trader" 
advertisement 
Lex ingt on  O  b server 
&  Reporter 


Negroes  Wanted. 

THE  undersigned  having  entered  into  Partnership 
under  the  firm  of 

HOBTHCITTr,  MARSHALL  *  CO., 

For  the  purpose  of  dealing  in  Slave*,  and  will  trans* 
act  business  at  the  house  lately  occupied  by  Joe.  H . 
NoBTBcrrr.on  East  Main  Street,  Le Kington, 
nearly  opposite  the  Woolen  Factory  of  Messrs. 
Thompson  &  Van  Dalsem.  They  wish  to  purchase 
a  large  number  of 

NEGROES,  OF  BOTH  SEXES, 

And  will  pay  the  highest  prices  offered  in  the  mar- 
ket. Persons  at  a  distance  having  Negroes  for  sale, 
and  finding  it  inconvedient  to  bring  them  to  the  city, 
will  please  address  us  by  mail. 

JOSEPH  H.  NORTHCUTT. 
SILAS  MARSHALL. 
Oct.21-9-tf     GEORGE  S.  MARSHALL 


THE  LINCOLNS   VISIT  LEXINGTON  139 

he  was  unanimously  chosen  to  lead  the  Old  Infantry  into  action. 

On  January  23,  1846,  Captain  Clay  and  a  handful  of  men 
had  been  surrounded  and  captured  at  Encarnacion  by  three 
thousand  Mexican  cavalry.  Following  imprisonment  of  many 
months  the  survivors  were  exchanged,  and  most  of  them,  ex- 
cept Captain  Clay  and  a  few  others,  had  already  returned  home. 
Sentiment  toward  the  captain  of  the  Old  Infantry,  as  Lincoln 
found,  along  Jordan's  Row  and  in  the  community  generally 
had  undergone  a  change  since  that  day  in  August  two  years 
before,  when  the  mob  had  raided  the  office  of  The  True  Amer- 
ican. 

A  week  before  Lincoln's  arrival  in  Lexington  a  card  had 
been  published  in  the  Observer,  signed  by  five  of  Captain  Clay's 
men,  in  which  they  praised  the  courage  and  self-sacrifice  of 
their  leader.  They  related  how  after  their  capture,  when  an 
order  had  been  given  for  the  massacre  of  the  American  soldiers, 
Clay  had  asked  that  the  privates  be  spared.  With  the  cocked 
pistol  of  a  Mexican  major  at  his  breast  the  captain  had  looked 
him  fearlessly  in  the  eye  and  exclaimed:  "Kill  me— kill  the 
officers,  but  spare  the  men!"  Then  on  the  weary  journey  to 
Mexico  City,  as  the  ragged,  barefoot  soldiers  were  marching 
forty  miles  a  day  over  the  rough  mountain  trails,  Clay  had 
made  his  exhausted  men  take  turns  riding  his  own  mule,  while 
he  trudged  grimly  behind  on  foot.  During  the  long  confine- 
ment he  had  tenderly  nursed  the  sick  and  had  sold  his  mule, 
buffalo  rug,  watch,  and  all  his  wearing  apparel  except  the  tat- 
tered uniform  on  his  back  to  buy  medicine  and  supplies  for  his 
soldiers.30 

And  now,  as  Lincoln's  vacation  came  to  an  end,  elaborate 
preparations  were  being  made  to  receive  the  returning  hero, 
then  on  his  way  back  home.  His  old  friend,  Robert  S.  Todd, 
had  been  selected  to  give  the  address  of  welcome,31  and  the 
impulsive,  warmhearted  Colonel  Jesse  Bayles,  forgetting  that 
he  had  been  one  of  the  committee  of  sixty  who  stormed  the 
office  of  The  True  American,  was  to  be  the  grand  marshal  at 
this  event  of  ceremony  and  felicitation. 


140  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

November  days  were  drawing  to  a  close.  Senator  Crittenden 
and  other  members  of  the  Kentucky  delegation  were  starting 
to  Washington  for  the  opening  of  Congress.  On  Thanksgiving 
Day,  Congressman  Lincoln  heard  the  great  preacher-orator,  Dr. 
Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  whose  philippics  on  slavery  had  so 
often  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the  Observer.  Sitting  there 
in  the  quaint,  dim  old  Presbyterian  Church,  Lincoln  did  not 
know  how  much  he  would  come  to  rely  on  this  plumed  Cru- 
sader of  the  Cloth  in  those  anxious  days  of  the  future  when 
the  nation's  life  hung  in  the  balance.  Then,  on  the  afternoon 
of  that  day,  the  Lincolns  said  good-by  to  Lexington  and  with 
their  two  little  boys  boarded  the  stage  for  Maysville,  where 
they  would  take  a  steamboat  up  the  Ohio  on  their  journey  to 
Washington. 


TEN 


Widow  Sprigg  and 
Buena  Vista 


CONGRESSMAN  Lincoln  and  his  family  arrived  in  Wash- 
ington late  Thursday  evening,  December  2,  and  obtained  tem- 
porary lodging  at  Brown's  Hotel.1  In  a  few  days  they  moved 
over  to  the  boardinghouse  of  Mrs.  Ann  G.  Sprigg  in  Carroll 
Row  on  Capitol  Hill.  On  Monday,  December  6,  the  Thirtieth 
Congress  convened  with  the  "lone  Whig"  from  Illinois  in  his 
seat. 

By  the  time  the  House  had  organized,  the  new  congressman 
was  in  correspondence  with  his  law  partner  back  in  Springfield, 
closing  a  letter  to  Herndon  with  the  jocular  remark:  "As  you 
are  all  so  anxious  for  me  to  distinguish  myself,  I  have  con- 
cluded to  do  so,  before  long."2  Lincoln  had  never  accepted  the 
repeated  declaration  of  President  Polk  that  the  first  blood  of 
the  war  with  Mexico  had  been  shed  on  American  soil,  and 
Clay's  address  at  Lexington  had  convinced  him  that  such  was 
not  the  case.  This  speech  had  stimulated  his  interest  in  the 
political  aspect  of  the  war,  and  he  lost  no  time  in  making 
inquiry  as  to  the  exact  manner  of  its  origin.  The  personal 
allusion  in  his  letter  to  Herndon  evidently  referred  to  the  now 


142  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

famous  "spot"  resolutions  which  he  introduced  in  the  House 
on  December  22  and  to  his  speech  in  support  of  them  several 
weeks  later. 

In  presenting  these  resolutions  the  Illinois  representative 
called  upon  the  President  to  name  the  "spot"  where  American 
blood  was  first  shed  and  to  say  whether  this  spot  was  not  within 
the  territory  wrested  from  Spain  by  the  revolutionary  govern- 
ment of  Mexico.  Certain  portions  of  the  speech,  while  couched 
in  Lincoln's  own  lucid  and  somewhat  droll  phraseology,  strong- 
ly resembled  the  "13th  of  November"  address  of  Henry  Clay.3 

Early  in  the  new  year  the  Sage  of  Ashland  arrived  in  Wash- 
ington to  argue  an  important  case  before  the  Supreme  Court. 
On  the  evening  of  January  18,  before  an  immense  crowd  that 
packed  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  he  presided 
over  the  annual  meeting  of  the  American  Colonization  Society, 
and  Lincoln  had  a  rare  opportunity  to  hear  an  impressive  ex- 
temporaneous speech,  where  Clay  always  appeared  to  such 
excellent  advantage. 

The  speaker  recalled  that  he  had  been  one  of  a  small  group 
of  men  who  founded  the  society  more  than  thirty  years  before. 
He  spoke  of  the  high  ideals  of  the  organization,  of  its  achieve- 
ments in  the  face  of  almost  unsurmountable  difficulties,  and 
of  the  grave  responsibilities  of  the  future.  He  related,  in  the 
midst  of  hearty  applause,  how  a  gentleman  who  recently  died 
in  Alabama,  a  stranger  to  him,  had  left  him  twenty-five  or  thirty 
slaves  under  his  will,  and  how  he  had  induced  twenty-three  of 
them  to  go  to  Liberia,  whither  they  had  just  embarked  from 
New  Orleans.  With  deep  emotion  which  he  could  not  wholly 
restrain,  Clay  said  in  closing  that  this  was  the  last  occasion  in 
"all  human  probability"  that  he  would  ever  have  to  address 
the  society.4  Then  on  Lincoln's  birthday,  Saturday,  February 
12,  Clay  argued  the  case  of  William  Houston  et  al.  v.  the  City 
Bank  of  New  Orleans  in  the  Supreme  Courtroom  that  was 
"crowded  almost  to  suffocation." 

Mrs.  Lincoln  and  the  children  remained  in  Washington 
through  the  winter,  but  returned  to  Lexington  in  the  early 


WIDOW  SPRIGG  AND  BUENA    VISTA  143 

spring  of  1848.  At  their  Grandfather  Todd's  comfortable  resi- 
dence on  West  Main  and  out  at  "Buena  Vista"  on  the  Leestown 
Pike,  Robert  and  little  Eddie,  with  small  pickaninnies  to  do 
their  bidding,  found  much  in  contrast  to  the  cramped  quarters 
at  Widow  Sprigg's  boardinghouse.  The  Todd  summer  home 
was  a  tall,  rambling  frame  house  surrounded  by  large  locust 
trees,  situated  on  a  beautiful  knoll  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  highway.  It  then  had  a  double  portico  in  front  and  a  long 
porch  on  the  side  that  connected  two  stone  slave  cabins  with 
the  main  portion  of  the  dwelling.  A  tiny  brook  meandered 
from  a  stone  springhouse  through  the  rolling  woodland  at  the 
foot  of  the  knoll,  and  from  the  porticoes  the  view  was  magni- 
ficent. 

The  "lone  Whig"  and  his  wife  were  regular  correspondents, 
and  one  of  the  letters  that  he  wrote  her  ran  as  follows: 

Washington,  April  16,  1848. 
Dear  Mary: 

In  this  troublesome  world,  we  are  never  quite  satisfied.  When 
you  were  here,  I  thought  you  hindered  me  some  in  attending  to 
business;  but  now,  having  nothing  but  business— no  variety— it  has 
grown  exceedingly  tasteless  to  me.  I  hate  to  sit  down  and  direct 
documents,  and  I  hate  to  stay  in  this  old  room  by  myself.  You 
know  I  told  you  in  last  Sunday's  letter,  I  was  going  to  make  a  little 
speech  during  the  week;  but  the  week  has  passed  away  without  my 
getting  a  chance  to  do  so;  and  now  my  interest  in  the  subject  has 
passed  away  too.  Your  second  and  third  letters  have  been  received 
since  I  wrote  before.  Dear  Eddy  thinks  father  is  "gone  tapila"  Has 
any  further  discovery  been  made  as  to  the  breaking  into  your  grand- 
mother's house?  If  I  were  she,  I  would  not  remain  there  alone. 
You  mention  that  your  uncle  John  Parker  is  likely  to  be  at  Lex- 
ington.   Don't  forget  to  present  him  my  very  kindest  regards. 

I  went  yesterday  to  hunt  the  little  plaid  stockings  as  you  wished; 
but  found  that  McKnight  has  quit  business,  and  Allen  had  not  a 
single  pair  of  the  description  you  give,  and  only  one  plaid  pair  of 
any  sort  that  I  thought  would  fit  "Eddy's  dear  little  feet."  I  have  a 
notion  to  make  another  trial  to-morrow  morning.  If  I  could  get 
them,  I  have  an  excellent  chance  of  sending  them.  Mr.  Warrick 
Tunstall,  of  St.  Louis  is  here.    He  is  to  leave  early  this  week,  and 


144  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

to  go  by  Lexington.  He  says  he  knows  you,  and  will  call  to  see 
you;  and  he  voluntarily  asked,  if  I  had  not  some  package  to  send 
to  you. 

I  wish  you  would  enjoy  yourself  in  every  possible  way;  but  is 
there  no  danger  of  wounding  the  feelings  of  your  good  father,  by 
being  so  openly  intimate  with  the  Wickliffe  family? 

Mrs.  Broome  has  not  removed  yet;  but  she  thinks  of  doing  so 
to-morrow.  All  the  house— or  rather,  all  with  whom  you  were  on 
decided  good  terms— send  their  love  to  you.  The  others  say  nothing. 

Very  soon  after  you  went  away,  I  got  what  I  think  a  very  pretty 
set  of  shirt-bosom  studs— modest  little  ones,  jet,  set  in  gold,  only 
costing  50  cents  a  piece,  or  1.50  for  the  whole. 

Suppose  you  do  not  prefix  the  "Hon"  to  the  address  on  your 
letters  to  me  any  more.  I  like  the  letters  very  much,  but  I  would 
rather  they  should  not  have  that  upon  them.  It  is  not  necessary, 
as  I  suppose  you  have  thought,  to  have  them  to  come  free. 

And  you  are  entirely  free  from  head-ache?  That  is  good— good- 
considering  it  is  the  first  spring  you  have  been  free  from  it  since 
we  were  acquainted.  I  am  afraid  you  will  get  so  well,  and  fat,  and 
young,  as  to  be  wanting  to  marry  again.  Tell  Louisa  I  want  her 
to  watch  you  a  little  for  me.  Get  weighed,  and  write  me  how  much 
you  weigh. 

I  did  not  get  rid  of  the  impression  of  that  foolish  dream  about 
dear  Bobby,  till  I  got  your  letter  written  the  same  day.  What  did 
he  and  Eddy  think  of  the  little  letters  father  sent  them?  Dont  let 
the  blessed  fellows  forget  father. 

A  day  or  two  ago  Mr.  Strong,  here  in  Congress,  said  to  me  that 
Matilda  would  visit  here  within  two  or  three  weeks.  Suppose  you 
write  her  a  letter,  and  enclose  it  in  one  of  mine;  and  if  she  comes 
I  will  deliver  it  to  her,  and  if  she  does  not,  I  will  send  it  to  her. 

Most  affectionately 
A.  Lincoln5 

And  on  a  warm  May  evening,  by  her  window  that  opened 
into  the  garden  filled  with  lilacs  and  honeysuckle,  Mary  scrib- 
bled a  long,  newsy  letter  to  her  husband: 

Lexington,  May ,  48. 

My  Dear  Husband— 

You  will  think  indeed,  that  old  age  has  set  its  seal,  upon  my 
humble  self,  that  in  few  or  none  of  my  letters,  I  can  remember  the 


WIDOW  SPRIGG  AND  BUENA    VISTA  145 

day  of  the  month.  I  must  confess  it  is  one  of  my  peculiarities;  I 
feel  wearied  &  tired  enough  to  know  that  this  is  Saturday  night, 
our  babies  are  asleep,  and  as  Aunt  Maria  B.  is  coming  in  for  me 
tomorrow  morning,  I  think  the  chances  will  be  rather  dull  that  I 
should  answer  your  last  letter  to-morrow.  I  have  just  received  a 
letter  from  Frances  W.,  it  related  in  an  especial  manner  to  the  box, 
I  had  desired  her  to  send,  she  thinks  with  you  (as  good  persons 
generally  agree)  that  it  would  cost  more  than  it  would  come  to,  and 
it  might  be  lost  on  the  road.  I  rather  expect  she  has  examined  the 
specified  articles,  and  thinks,  as  Levi  says,  they  are  hard  bargains. 
But  it  takes  so  many  changes  to  do  children,  particularly  in  sum- 
mer, that  I  thought  it  might  save  me  a  few  stitches.  I  think  I  will 
write  her  a  few  lines  this  evening,  directing  her  not  to  send  them. 
She  says  Willie  is  just  recovering  from  another  spell  of  sickness, 
Mary  or  none  of  them  were  well.  Springfield,  she  reports  as  dull 
as  usual— Uncle  S.  was  to  leave  there  on  yesterday  for  Ky. 

Our  little  Eddy,  has  recovered  from  his  little  spell  of  sickness- 
Dear  boy,  I  must  tell  you  a  little  story  about  him.  Boby  in  his 
wanderings  to  day,  came  across  in  a  yard,  a  little  kitten,  your 
hobby,®  he  says  he  asked  a  man  for  it;  he  brought  it  triumphantly 
to  the  house;  so  soon  as  Eddy  spied  it,  his  tenderness,  broke  forth, 
he  made  them  bring  it  water,  fed  it  with  bread  himself,  with  his 
own  dear  hands,  he  was  a  delighted  little  creature  over  it;  in  the 
midst  of  his  happiness  Ma  came  in,  she,  you  must  know  dislikes  the 
whole  cat  race.  I  thought  in  a  very  unfeeling  manner,  she  ordered 
the  servant  near,  to  throw  it  out,  which  of  course  was  done,— Ed- 
screaming  &  protesting  loudly  against  the  proceedings,  she  never 
appeared  to  mind  his  screams,  which  were  long  Sc  loud,  I  assure  you. 
Tis  unusual  for  her  now  a  days,  to  do  any  thing  quite  so  striking, 
she  is  very  obliging  &  accommodating,  but  if  she  thought  any  of  us, 
were  on  her  hands  again,  I  believe  she  would  be  worse  than  ever. 
In  the  next  moment  she  appeared  in  a  good  humor,  I  know  she  did 
not  intend  to  offend  me.  By  the  way,  she  has  just  sent  me  up  a 
glass  of  ice  cream,  for  which  this  warm  evening,  I  am  duly  grateful. 
The  country  is  so  delightful  I  am  going  to  spend  two  or  three  weeks 
out  there,  it  will  doubtless  benefit  the  children.  Grandma  has  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Uncle  James  Parker  of  Miss,  saying  he  &  his 
family  would  be  up  by  the  twenty  fifth  of  June,  would  remain  here 
some  little  time  &  go  on  to  Philadelphia  to  take  their  oldest  daugh- 
ter there  to  school.   I  believe  it  would  be  a  good  chance  for  me  to 


146  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

pack  up  &  accompany  them.  You  know  I  am  so  fond  of  sight-seeing, 
&  I  did  not  get  to  New  York  or  Boston,  or  travel  the  lake  route. 
But  perhaps,  dear  husband,  like  the  irresistible  Col.  Mc.  cannot  do 
without  his  wife  next  winter,  and  must  needs  take  her  with  him 
again— I  expect  you  would  cry  aloud  against  it.  How  much,  I  wish 
instead  of  writing,  we  were  together  this  evening,  I  feel  very  sad 
away  from  you.  Ma  8c  myself  rode  out  to  Mr.  Bell's  splendid  place 
this  afternoon,  to  return  a  call,  the  house  and  grounds  are  mag- 
nificent. Frances  W.  would  have  died  over  their  rare  exotics.  It  is 
growing  late,  these  summer  eves  are  short,  I  expect  my  long  scrawls, 
for  truly  such  they  are,  weary  you  greatly— if  you  come  on,  in  July 
or  August  /  will  take  you  to  the  springs.  Patty  Webb's  school  in 
S—  closes  the  first  of  July,  I  expect  Mr.  Webb,  will  come  on  for 
her,  I  must  go  down  about  that  time  &  carry  on  quite  a  flirtation, 
you  know  we  always  had  a  penchant  that  way.  I  must  bid  you  good 
night.  Do  not  fear  the  children,  have  forgotten  you,  I  was  only 
jesting— even  E— eyes  brighten  at  the  mention  of  your  name.  My 
love  to  all— Truly  yours 

M.  L.7 

Lincoln  did  not  forget  to  provide  his  family  with  funds, 
even  though  under  the  circumstances  they  were  at  practically 
no  expense. 

Washington,  May  24,  1848. 
My  dear  wife: 

Enclosed  is  the  draft  as  I  promised  you  in  my  letter  of  sunday. 
It  is  drawn  in  favor  of  your  father,  and  I  doubt  not,  he  will  give 
you  the  money  for  it  at  once.  I  write  this  letter  in  the  post-office, 
surrounded  by  men  and  noise,  which,  together  with  the  fact  that 
there  is  nothing  new,  makes  me  write  so  short  a  letter. 

Affectionately 
A.  Lincoln8 

Mary's  letters  from  Lexington  were  full  of  local  happenings, 
interesting  to  the  lonely  man  at  the  Widow  Sprigg's.  Thieves 
had  broken  into  "Grandma"  Parker's  residence  and  had  stolen 
a  gold  watch  and  a  quantity  of  monogrammed  silverware.  Mrs. 
Parker  had  offered  a  reward  of  a  hundred  dollars  for  their  de- 
tection.9   "Has  any   further  discovery  been   made  as   to   the 


WIDOW  SPRIGG  AND  BUENA    VISTA  147 

breaking  into  your  grand-mother's  house?"  wrote  Lincoln.  "If 
I  were  she,  I  would  not  remain  there  alone."10  Cassius  M. 
Clay  on  his  return  from  Mexico  had  renewed  warfare  on  his 
old  enemies  by  suing  the  leaders  of  the  committee  of  sixty  for 
damages  to  his  printing  press  and,  upon  a  change  of  venue  to 
Jessamine  County,  was  awarded  judgment  for  $2,500.11  Henry 
Clay,  having  been  defeated  in  the  Philadelphia  convention  by 
General  Taylor,  was  being  urged  to  stand  for  election  to  the 
Senate,  and  John  J.  Crittenden  had  resigned  his  seat  in  that 
body  to  become  the  Whig  candidate  for  governor  of  Kentucky. 
Another  letter  from  Lincoln  to  his  wife  during  these  months 
has  been  preserved: 

Washington,  July  2,  1848. 
My  dear  wife: 

Your  letter  of  last  sunday  came  last  night.  On  that  day  (sunday) 
I  wrote  the  principal  part  of  a  letter  to  you,  but  did  not  finish  it, 
or  send  it  till  tuesday,  when  I  had  provided  a  draft  for  $100  which 
I  sent  in  it.  It  is  now  probable  that  on  that  day  (tuesday)  you 
started  to  Shelbyville;  so  that  when  the  money  reaches  Lexington, 
you  will  not  be  there.  Before  leaving,  did  you  make  any  provision 
about  letters  that  might  come  to  Lexington  for  you?  Write  me 
whether  you  got  the  draft,  if  you  shall  not  have  already  done  so, 
when  this  reaches  you.  Give  my  kindest  regards  to  your  uncle  John, 
and  all  the  family.  Thinking  of  them  reminds  me  that  I  saw  your 
acquaintance,  Newton,  of  Arkansas,  at  the  Philadelphia  Conven- 
tion. We  had  but  a  single  interview,  and  that  was  so  brief,  and  in 
so  great  a  multitude  of  strange  faces,  that  I  am  quite  sure  I  should 
not  recognize  him,  if  I  were  to  meet  him  again.  He  was  a  sort  of 
Trinity,  three  in  one,  having  the  right,  in  his  own  person,  to  cast 
the  three  votes  of  Arkansas.  Two  or  three  days  ago  I  sent  your 
uncle  John,  and  a  few  of  our  other  friends  each  a  copy  of  the  speech 
I  mentioned  in  my  last  letter;  but  I  did  not  send  any  to  you,  think- 
ing you  would  be  on  the  road  here,  before  it  would  reach  you.  I 
send  you  one  now.  Last  Wednesday,  P.  H.  Hood  &  Co.,  dunned  me 
for  a  little  bill  of  $5.38  cents,  and  Walter  Harper  &  Co,  another 
for  $8.50  cents,  for  goods  which  they  say  you  bought.  I  hesitated 
to  pay  them,  because  my  recollection  is  that  you  told  me  when  you 


148  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

went  away,  there  was  nothing  left  unpaid.    Mention  in  your  next 
letter  whether  they  are  right. 

At  some  length  the  letter  ran  along  in  chatty  fashion.  The 
Richardsons  had  a  new  baby.  Interest  in  the  Saturday  night 
concerts  on  the  Capitol  grounds  was  dwindling.  Two  girls  that 
he  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  had  seen  at  the  exhibition  of  the  Ethiopian 
Serenaders  were  still  in  Washington.  .  .  .  And  then  closes: 

I  have  had  no  letter  from  home,  since  I  wrote  you  before,  ex- 
cept short  business  letters,  which  have  no  interest  for  you. 

By  the  way,  you  do  not  intend  to  do  without  a  girl,  because  the 
one  you  had  has  left  you?  Get  another  as  soon  as  you  can  to  take 
charge  of  the  dear  codgers.  Father  expected  to  see  you  all  sooner; 
but  let  it  pass;  stay  as  long  as  you  please,  and  come  when  you  please. 
Kiss  and  love  the  dear  rascals. 

Affectionately 
A.  Lincoln12 

Lincoln's  course  in  the  Mexican  War  was  unpopular  with 
many  of  his  constituents  back  home.  Herndon  gloomily  re- 
ported extensive  defections  in  the  Whig  ranks  and  severely 
criticized  the  party's  attitude  on  slavery.  Lincoln  suggested 
that  he  "gather  up  all  the  shrewd  wild  boys  about  town"  and 
organize  a  "Rough  &  Ready"  club  for  General  Taylor.  "Let 
every  one  play  the  part  he  can  play  best,"  he  advised;  "some 
speak,  some  sing,  and  all  hollow."13 

But  Herndon  wrote  back  complaining  of  certain  "old  fos- 
sils in  the  party  who  are  constantly  keeping  the  young  men 
down,"  to  which  his  partner  on  July  10,  1848,  responded  in  a 
long  anxious  letter  filled  with  homely  philosophy.  Herndon's 
bitterness  was  "exceedingly  painful"  to  him.  "The  way  for  a 
young  man  to  rise,  is  to  improve  himself  every  way  he  can, 
never  suspecting  that  any  body  wishes  to  hinder  him."  Lincoln 
predicted  that  by  taking  his  advice  the  junior  partner  would 
achieve  a  position  among  the  people  "far  above  any  I  have  ever 
been  able  to  reach,  in  their  admiration."14 

Next  day  Lincoln  received  a  bright,  gossipy  letter  from 


WIDOW  SPRIG G  AND  BUENA    VISTA  149 

Herndon  in  which  there  was  mention  of  "kissing  a  pretty  girl." 
Much  relieved  that  his  young  associate  had  recovered  his  spirits, 
the  "lone  Whig"  from  his  desk  in  the  House  scribbled  a  hasty 
reply  in  similar  vein: 

Washington,  July  11,  1848. 
Dear  William: 

Yours  of  the  3rd.  is  this  moment  received;  and  I  hardly  need 
say,  it  gives  unalloyed  pleasure.  I  now  almost  regret  writing  the 
serious,  long  faced  letter,  I  wrote  yesterday;  but  let  the  past  as 
nothing  be.    Go  it  while  you're  young! 

I  write  this  in  the  confusion  of  the  H.R,  and  with  several  other 
things  to  attend  to.  I  will  send  you  about  eight  different  speeches 
this  evening;  and  as  to  kissing  a  pretty  girl,  [I]  know  one  very 
pretty  one,  but  I  guess  she  wont  let  me  kiss  her.15 

Yours  forever 
A.  Lincoln16 

The  long  table  in  Widow  Sprigg's  dining  room  was  always 
crowded.  Many  of  the  boarders  were  members  of  Congress, 
and  all  of  these  were  Whigs.  Even  then  the  issue  of  slavery 
had  begun  to  divide  the  party.  The  Wilmot  Proviso  was  a 
topic  of  frequent  conversation— sometimes,  argued  hotly,  with 
Congressmen  John  Dickey  of  Pennsylvania  and  Patrick  W. 
Tompkins  of  Mississippi  the  chief  participants. 

Dr.  Samuel  C.  Busey,  one  of  the  boarders,  remembered  that 
Lincoln  "always  seemed  anxious  to  avoid  giving  offense  to 
anybody."  When  the  conversation  became  heated  or  even  "un- 
pleasantly contentious"  he  would  step  in  and  guide  it  skillfully 
into  other  channels  or  interrupt  with  an  anecdote  that  pro- 
duced such  hearty  and  general  laughter  that  the  parties  involved 
would  "either  separate  in  good  humor  or  continue  conversation 
free  from  discord." 

The  amiable  disposition  of  the  Illinois  congressman  made 
him  exceedingly  popular  with  everybody.  He  was  fond  of 
bowling  and  there  was  an  alley  near  the  boardinghouse.  By 
no  means  adept  at  the  game,  he  played  with  great  zest  and 


150  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

spirit,  accepting  success  or  defeat  with  "like  good  nature  and 
humor."  Whenever  it  was  known  that  Lincoln  was  going  to 
play,  the  alley  was  crowded  with  persons  eager  to  hear  his 
inexhaustible  fund  of  stories  and  ludicrous  remarks.17 

One  morning  Congressman  Lincoln  opened  his  Illinois  Jour- 
nal, and  the  following  item  met  his  eye: 

Denton  Offutt,  The  Horse  Tamer— "This  singular  personage," 
says  a  late  Nashville  paper,  "has  been  in  this  city  for  several  days, 
and  of  his  wonderful  skill  in  the  management  and  taming  of  horses 
hundreds  can  testify. 

"A  few  experiments  that  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes  would  satisfy 
the  most  incredulous.  A  few  days  since,  in  front  of  the  Union  Hall, 
a  strange  and  wild  horse,  the  property  of  Dr.  Hall,  of  Gallatin,  was 
presented  to  him  for  a  trial  of  his  skill,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes, 
he  made  him  gentle  as  a  dog,  the  horse  following  him  wherever  he 
went.  The  same  horse  would  not  permit  an  umbrella  to  be  hoisted 
over  him,  but  in  the  hands  of  Offutt,  he  soon  became  as  familiar 
to  an  umbrella  as  to  a  bridle,  and  would  stand  perfectly  still,  while 
the  umbrella  was  not  only  hoisted,  but  rattled  about  his  head,  and 
[he  was]  struck  on  the  face  with  it. 

"Several  other  cases,  equally  as  remarkable,  I  could  state,  but 
the  above  will  suffice.  The  great  beauty  of  the  art  is  its  simplicity, 
and  the  short  time  it  takes  him  to  communicate  it  to  others."18 

It  had  been  sixteen  years  since  Lincoln  had  heard  from  the 
little  trader  from  Hickman  Creek— since  he  had  said  good-by 
to  him  that  afternoon  as  he  left  New  Salem,  defeated  and  dis- 
couraged. 

Offutt,  empty  of  pocket,  had  returned  to  his  native  Blue- 
grass  region.  Brother  Otho  owned  a  fine  farm  in  the  fertile 
Elkhorn  Valley  of  Fayette  County.  Brother  Sam,  a  big  hemp 
buyer,  lived  on  his  plantation  of  220  acres  in  the  adjoining 
county  of  Bourbon.  For  the  next  eight  years  Denton  and  his 
nephew  Joe,  son  of  brother  Tilghman,  handled  livestock  for 
Otho  and  Sam,  taking  large  droves  of  mules  for  the  latter  down 


WIDOW  SPRIGG  AND  BUENA    VISTA  151 

to  Natchez.  Saddle  horses  were  Otho's  specialty,  and  Denton 
and  Joe  trained  them,  got  them  ready  for  the  eastern  market, 
and  sold  them  in  Boston,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Balti- 
more. Frequently  they  took  mules,  cattle,  and  hogs  to  New 
Orleans  for  Tilghman,  but  these  trips  now  were  made  in  com- 
parative luxury,  the  river  freighter  having  displaced  the  flatboat. 

In  the  spring  of  1842  the  hemp  market  crashed,  leaving 
Sam  Offutt  irretrievably  ruined.  He  had  borrowed  large  sums 
from  Otho,  who  was  also  surety  on  many  of  his  other  debts. 
Then  on  August  16,  1842,  Otho  died  suddenly.  Parker  Otwell 
was  appointed  administrator,  and  he  and  Denton,  who  was 
still  a  bachelor  living  with  Otho,  proceeded  under  the  orders 
of  the  court  to  wind  up  the  decedent's  estate.19 

A  few  months  later  Sam's  creditors  closed  in  upon  him, 
contending  that  he  was  "insolvent"  and  "was  about  to  dispose 
of  his  personal  property."  In  support  of  these  allegations  Asa 
Barnett  testified  that  Sam  "kept  his  negroes  out  of  sight,  he 
got  them  to  stay  in  a  hole  under  the  house,  and  run  about  at 
night  for  exercise"  from  April  to  August,  when  "he  started 
them  off  to  Missouri  privately  after  night,  saying  if  he  did  not 
get  them  off  his  creditors  would  get  them."  Then,  having  re- 
moved his  Negroes  and  much  of  his  other  personalty  out  of 
the  state,  Sam  "castrated  a  stallion"  that  was  mortgaged  to 
Edmund  D.  Jones  and  "rode  him  off  to  the  state  of  Missouri."20 

The  death  of  Otho  and  the  financial  collapse  of  Sam  left 
Denton  free  to  embark  upon  a  calling  for  which  he  seemed 
eminently  qualified  by  nature  and  which  eventually  brought 
him  the  public  acclaim,  if  not  the  fortune,  he  had  always  so 
wistfully  craved.  Since  early  manhood  on  the  farm  Denton 
Offutt's  personality  had  instinctively  won  the  trust  and  con- 
fidence of  all  dumb  animals.  The  wildest,  meanest  stallion, 
the  most  fractious  mare,  the  most  stubborn  mule,  after  Denton 
had  handled  them  a  little  while,  would  willingly  do  his  bidding. 

So  Denton  Offutt  had  become  a  professional  horse  tamer, 
and  with  local  reputation  already  established,  his  fame  quickly 


152  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

spread,  particularly  southward.  Aided  by  a  ghost  writer  who 
corrected  his  grammar,  syntax,  and  amazingly  grotesque  spell- 
ing, he  published  a  small  booklet  of  120  pages  introducing  his 
"New  and  Complete  System  of  Teaching  the  Horse."21 

After  a  brief  preface  in  which  Offutt  stated  that  he  "was 
born  on  the  waters  of  Hickman  Creek,  eight  or  nine  miles 
south  of  Lexington,  and  raised  to  farming,"  the  reader  was 
informed  that  many  methods  existed  all  over  the  world  for 
4  gentling"  horses.  The  Spaniards  milked  mare's  milk  into  the 
hand,  mixed  it  with  salt,  and  let  the  horse  "lick  it  from  your 
hand."  Others  took  from  the  horse's  leg  the  "scurf  or  chest- 
nut," pulverized  it,  put  it  into  a  quill,  and  "blew  it  into  each 
nostril  some  three  or  four  times."  The  Virginia  manner  was 
to  "sicken  the  horse  by  giving  him  one  or  two  pounds  of  fat 
bacon."  Still  another  method  was  to  mix  the  "oil  of  Rodium, 
oil  of  Annes,  oil  of  Spike,  three  equal  quantities,  and  let  them 
smell  it  from  a  vial  or  from  your  hand."  Wherever  "the  law 
of  kindness  is  involved,"  said  Offutt,  "I  believe  the  above 
methods  useful.    No  further  have  I  any  confidence  in  them." 

Offutt's  technique  was  simple.  Patience,  kindness,  caresses, 
soft  words,  and  a  quiet  courage  that  must  not  falter  never  failed 
to  soothe  and  subdue  the  most  vicious  instincts.  "Put  your 
arms  around  his  neck  and  whisper  the  words  in  his  ear"— 
whispering  being  most  effective  in  the  "gentling"  process,  be- 
cause it  was  the  best  way  to  "keep  his  attention." 

"By  my  system,"  said  Offutt,  "the  wildest  and  most  vicious 
horse  may  be  made  in  a  short  time  useful,  but  all  cannot  be 
made  equally  gentle."  Whips  or  other  means  of  punishment 
must  never  be  used.  "If  the  horse  shows  fight  and  attempts  to 
fly  at  you,  as  the  wildest  are  apt  to  do,  shaking  a  blanket  in  his 
face  will  effectually  frighten  him  from  his  purpose."  Never 
show  fear.  Never  be  angry.  Approach  him  gradually,  talking 
to  him  softly  and  in  "a  constant  tone."  Rub  his  face  "gently 
downward,  not  across  or  against  the  grain  of  the  hair;  as  soon 
as  he  becomes  reconciled  to  this  (as  you  will  perceive  by  his 
eye  and  countenance)    rub  his  neck  and  back.  .  .  .  You  must 


WIDOW  SPRIGG  AND  BUENA    VISTA  153 

rub  him  on  both  sides,"  reminded  Offutt,  "as  he  may  be  gentle 
on  one  side  and  not  on  the  other." 

As  for  artificial  methods,  all  that  Offutt  ever  did— and  that 
only  with  a  horse  that  had  fasted  from  twelve  to  twenty-four 
hours— was  to  feed  him,  while  patting,  rubbing,  and  talking, 
bits  of  "sweated"  cake  made  from  "one  pound  of  oatmeal,  one 
quarter  pound  of  honey,  and  one-half  pound  of  laurence." 
The  author  concluded  his  instructions  on  horse  training  with 
the  admonition,  "Horse  breeders!  be  kind  and  gentle  to  your 
foals,  and  you  will  seldom  have  vicious  horses  to  tame." 

As  Lincoln  observed  from  his  newspaper,  doubtless  to  his 
great  satisfaction,  popularity  and  success  in  an  entirely  different 
role  from  that  envisioned  in  New  Salem  days  had  finally  come 
to  his  old  sponsor  and  was  now  being  recorded  in  the  public 
press.  In  fact,  if  he  could  have  known  it,  Offutt  was  about 
this  time  only  forty  miles  away,  giving  exhibitions  of  horse 
taming  in  Baltimore— ever  the  showman— dressed  in  a  black 
suit  with  a  broad,  multicolored  satin  sash  extending  across  his 
right  shoulder  to  a  large  rosette  of  the  same  material  on  his 
left  hip.22 

There  was  at  least  one  outstanding  event  of  the  summer 
for  little  Eddie  and  Bob.  On  a  sultry  August  day  Howe's 
Great  Circus  and  Collection  of  World  Curiosities  came  to 
town,  and  at  noon  the  gorgeous  street  parade  with  blaring 
music  passed  slowly  down  Main  Street  in  front  of  the  Todd 
residence.  It  was  headed  by  an  "Egyptian  Dragon  Chariot 
drawn  by  twelve  trained  Syrian  camels,"  containing  the  "Full 
New  York  Brass  Band,"  followed  by  Queen  Mabb's  "Fairy 
Chariot"  with  twelve  diminutive  Shetland  ponies  driven  by 
the  "celebrated  Dwarf,  Major  Stevens,"  cavorting  clowns,  a 
troop  of  "Real  Bedouin  Arabs,"  eight  Equestrian  Ladies,  wild 
beasts  of  the  African  jungles  that  glared  ferociously  through 
the  iron  bars  of  their  gilded  cages,  and  "many  other  wonderful 
and  impressive  objects  collected  from  remote  parts  of  the 
Globe." 


154  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Then  on  Sunday  morning,  August  5,  Fayette  County  was 
thrown  into  the  most  intense  excitement  ever  known  in  cen- 
tral Kentucky.  Between  dusk  and  daylight  some  seventy-five 
slaves  had  escaped  from  their  masters,  and  armed  and  desperate, 
they  were  thought  to  be  headed  for  the  Ohio  River.  It  was 
soon  discovered  that  Patrick  Doyle,  a  student  of  Centre  College 
in  the  neighboring  town  of  Danville,  was  ringleader  of  the 
insurrection,  and  the  entire  Bluegrass,  with  threats  of  summary 
vengeance,  turned  out  to  apprehend  the  fugitives.  A  mass 
meeting  hurriedly  assembled  at  the  courthouse  to  provide  means 
"for  the  detection  and  punishment  of  abolitionists  and  others 
in  enticing  slaves  from  their  owners." 

The  example  of  the  notorious  Fairbank  [said  the  Observer'], 
who  is  now  in  our  state  prison,  serving  a  fifteen  years  apprentice- 
ship at  hard  labor,  has  not,  it  seems,  had  the  effect  of  keeping  our 
state  clear  of  these  detestable  villains  who,  under  the  false  pretext 
of  philanthropy,  and  with  unexampled  audacity  are  perpetrating 
their  foul  practice  in  our  midst.  It  is  time  that  a  more  severe  ex- 
ample should  be  made  of  these  wretches,  and  every  citizen  should 
be  on  the  alert  to  detect  and  bring  them  to  punishment.  That 
there  are  abolitionists  in  our  midst— emissaries  from  this  piratical 
crew— whose  business  it  is  to  tamper  with  and  run  off  our  slaves, 
there  is  not  the  shadow  of  doubt.23 

With  hundreds  of  possemen  galloping  over  the  Paris-Cyn- 
thiana  turnpike,  while  others  scoured  the  countryside,  the  cap- 
ture of  Doyle  and  his  little  band  of  runaway  slaves  was  merely 
a  matter  of  time.  In  a  few  days  the  fugitives  were  surrounded 
in  the  hemp  fields  north  of  the  village  of  Cynthiana,  and  after 
a  short,  brisk  encounter  the  survivors  surrendered.  Doyle,  heav- 
ily ironed,  was  brought  back  to  Lexington,  and  as  Mary  Lin- 
coln's visit  came  to  a  close,  he  lay  in  solitary  confinement  in 
Megowan's  jail,  awaiting  trial  for  the  grave  offense  of  "Inciting 
Slaves  to  Conspiracy,  Insurrection  and  Rebellion."24 

Lexington's  young  pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church,  Wil- 
liam M.  Pratt,  wrote  in  his  diary:  "There  has  been  a  great 
disturbance  in  the  country  on  account  of  some  60  or  70  negroes 


A   NEW 

AND  COMPLETE  SYSTEM 

TEACHING  THE  HORSE, 

On  Fhrenological  Principles: 

ALSO, 

A  RULE  FOR  SELECTING  THE  BEST 
ANIMALS. 

AND  MODE  OF  TEACHING  ALL  BEASTS  VOIR  WILL. 
BREEDING  OF  HORSES, 

And  Cure  of  part  of  llicir  Diseases. 


BY  DENTON  OFFUTT. 


CINCINNATI. 

Appletons's  Queen  City  Press. 
1848. 


Title   page   of   Den- 
ton Offutt's  book. 
Original  owned  by 
the  author 


Joe  Offutt,  pupil 

AND     "SPIT     'n'     IMAGE" 

of  his  uncle  Denton 

Original  photograph 
owned  by  Mrs.  Frank 
J.  Cheek 


"Mr.  Bell's  splendid  place"  in  Lexington,  where  friends  of  the  Lincolns' 
lived 


"Buena  Vista,"  summer  home  of  Robert  S.  Todd,  with  slave  cabins,  as  it 
looked  before  it  was  razed 


WIDOW  SPRIGG  AND  BUENA    VISTA  155 

running  off  in  a  gang  &  hundreds  have  been  in  pursuit,  nearly 
all  taken.  Some  will  be  hung  I  fear,  all  the  others  will  probably 
be  sent  down  the  river.  They  were  a  class  of  the  finest  negroes 
in  the  county.  It  is  supposed  they  were  decoyed  by  Abolition- 
ists. ...  It  has  called  for  severe  rules  and  regulations  for  the 
poor  blacks."25 

Congressman  Lincoln  had  intended  to  join  his  wife  and 
boys  in  Lexington  upon  the  adjournment  of  Congress  and  to 
spend  a  few  days  with  them  at  Crab  Orchard  Springs,  but  the 
exigencies  of  politics  compelled  a  change  of  plans.  General 
Taylor's  campaign  for  the  Presidency  was  lagging  in  New  Eng- 
land, and  there  were  calls  for  reinforcements.  So  when  Congress 
adjourned  on  August  14,  Lincoln  and  General  Leslie  Combs 
of  Lexington  journeyed  into  Massachusetts  to  rally  the  apathetic 
Whigs  about  the  standard  of  the  Mexican  War  hero. 

The  approach  of  September  days  brought  Mary's  stay  in  the 
Bluegrass  to  an  end.  It  would  be  weeks  now  before  she  saw 
her  husband,  and  then  he  would  return  direct  to  Springfield. 
Summer  had  swiftly  passed,  and  Bob  and  Eddie  were  deeply 
tanned.  These  months  had  been  happy  ones  for  Mary  and 
Mrs.  Todd,  for  they  at  last  had  come  to  a  thorough  appreciation 
of  each  other.  No  shadow  lay  between  them  this  time  as  Mary 
gathered  up  her  little  brood  and  started  back  to  Illinois  after 
an  absence  of  nearly  a  year. 

Meanwhile,  Lincoln  in  a  long  linen  duster  was  stumping 
New  England  for  Zachary  Taylor.  He  spoke  at  Worcester,  New 
Bedford,  Lowell,  Dorchester,  Chelsea,  Dedham,  Cambridge, 
Taunton.  At  Boston  he  shared  the  platform  in  Tremont  Tem- 
ple with  William  H.  Seward. 

Early  in  October,  after  a  leisurely  trip  by  way  of  Albany, 
Buffalo,  and  Niagara  Falls,  the  Illinois  congressman  arrived 
home  again  to  find  the  Whig  defection  in  his  district  even  worse 
than  Herndon  had  described.  He  had  not  been  a  candidate 
for  re-election,  leaving  the  nomination  to  Judge  Logan,  whom 
the  Democrats  had  decisively  defeated  at  the  August  election. 


156  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Party  leaders  now  blamed  Lincoln's  attitude  on  the  Mexican 
War  for  the  capture  of  this  important  Whig  stronghold— the 
only  one  in  the  state  except  the  Galena  district. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Lincoln  felt  that  he  had  lost 
ground  in  public  esteem— that  his  efforts  as  a  servant  of  the 
people  were  unappreciated— and  it  cut  him  to  the  quick.  Never- 
theless, he  plunged  into  the  campaign  in  his  district  and  spoke 
day  and  night  in  various  counties.26 

In  November,  General  Taylor  was  elected  President  of  the 
United  States,  but  Illinois  went  for  Cass,  and  the  incoming 
administration  gave  Lincoln  no  credit  for  the  victory.  Three 
weeks  later,  depressed  and  humiliated,  the  "lone  Whig"  re- 
turned to  Washington  to  serve  out  the  few  remaining  months 
of  his  term  in  Congress.  Mrs.  Lincoln  was  not  with  him,  and 
such  letters  as  he  wrote  to  her  or  to  their  kinfolk  at  Lexington 
are  no  longer  extant. 

On  February  20  Lincoln's  father-in-law,  Robert  S.  Todd, 
wrote  him.  His  brother,  David  Todd  of  Columbia,  Missouri, 
had  a  son-in-law,  Thomas  M.  Campbell,  who  was  "in  dependent 
circumstances."  He  sought  Lincoln's  aid  in  obtaining  for  Camp- 
bell an  appointment  as  a  clerk  in  one  of  the  government  de- 
partments under  the  incoming  administration.27 

The  closing  weeks  of  Lincoln's  career  as  a  congressman 
were  uneventful.  He  took  little  or  no  part  in  the  debates, 
though  he  voted  repeatedly  for  the  Wilmot  Proviso  against 
slavery  in  any  territory  acquired  from  Mexico.  He  read  to  the 
House  an  amendment  to  a  bill,  abolishing  slavery  in  the  District 
of  Columbia,  but  it  was  never  formally  introduced. 

Early  Sunday  morning,  March  4,  1849,  the  Thirtieth  Con- 
gress adjourned  sine  die,  and  Lincoln  went  sadly  back  to  his 
dingy,  cluttered  law  office  and  the  faithful  clientele  that  waited 
for  him  on  the  prairies  of  Illinois. 


ELEVEN 


A  House 
Divided 


1HE  GIANT  whistle  on  Bruen's  Foundry  at  Lexington  ush- 
ered in  with  hoarse  blasts  the  first  day  of  January,  1849,  and  gay, 
midnight  watch  parties  at  the  Phoenix  Hotel  and  in  private 
homes  greeted  the  New  Year  with  popping  corks,  sparkling 
tumblers,  songs,  and  merry  jest. 

Scarcely,  however,  had  the  shouts  of  welcome  died  away 
when  the  "smouldering  volcano"  of  slavery  belched  again  into 
flames  which  raged  fiercely  through  spring  and  summer  into 
late  autumn,  unchecked  by  pestilence  and  bloodshed,  giving  to 
Abraham  Lincoln  "his  first  real  specific  alarm  about  the  insti- 
tution of  slavery."1 

After  several  weeks  of  sharp  skirmishing  the  antislavery 
forces  achieved  what  seemed  to  be  a  signal  victory  for  the  cause 
of  emancipation.  Early  in  February  a  reluctant  legislature  is- 
sued the  call  for  a  convention  to  assemble  on  October  1,  1849, 
to  draft  a  new  state  constitution,  for  which  delegates  were  to 
be  chosen  at  the  August  election.  For  more  than  a  decade  the 
enemies  of  freedom  had  forestalled  every  effort  to  revise  the 
organic  law  because   they   feared  the  adoption  of  provisions 


158  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

detrimental  to  slavery.  Now  that  a  convention  actually  had 
been  called,  prospects  for  gradual  emancipation  seemed  brighter 
than  ever  before  in  the  history  of  the  commonwealth. 

The  House  of  Representatives,  however,  did  not  intend 
that  there  should  be  any  doubt  in  the  public  mind  as  to  where 
it  stood  on  the  slavery  issue.  On  February  3,  by  unanimous 
action  which  included  the  vote  of  Joshua  Speed,  it  adopted  an 
emphatic  resolution:  "That  we,  the  representatives  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Kentucky,  are  opposed  to  abolition  or  emancipation  of 
slavery  in  any  form  or  shape  whatever,  except  as  now  provided 
by  the  Constitution  and  laws  of  the  state."2 

Three  weeks  later  a  bill  was  introduced  to  repeal  the  Non- 
importation Act,  and  while  the  emancipationists,  whose  vigi- 
lance had  been  relaxed  by  the  recent  victory,  stood  aghast  in 
the  midst  of  their  jubilation,  the  legislature  quickly  set  aside 
the  drastic  provisions  of  the  Negro  Law  which  prohibited  the 
bringing  of  slaves  into  Kentucky  as  merchandise.3 

Then,  as  if  to  make  the  issue  in  the  approaching  campaign 
even  more  clear-cut,  the  proslavery  element  struck  its  groggy 
adversaries  another  swift  and  stunning  blow.  A  bill  entitled 
"An  Act  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  have  imported  slaves 
contrary  to  the  law  of  1833"  was  hastily  prepared  and  rushed 
through  the  Assembly,  which  provided  that  all  such  offenders 
were  "forever  absolved  from  all  the  penalties  and  liabilities 
incurred  by  the  purchase  or  importation  of  said  slaves."4  Ken- 
tucky had  defiantly  returned  to  the  open  status  of  a  slave-breed- 
ing state,  and  the  initial  advantage  of  the  emancipationists  in 
forcing  the  convention  crumbled  to  ashes  in  their  hands. 

For  many  years  every  attack  upon  the  Negro  Law  had  been 
repulsed  in  a  decisive  manner,  and  now  its  repeal  in  an  un- 
guarded moment  was  a  crushing  defeat.  But  the  emancipa- 
tionists were  inured  to  disappointment,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  they  had  reformed  their  shattered  ranks.  Under  a  mili- 
tant leadership  they  began  preparations  for  the  grueling  contest 
for  delegates,  which  everybody  foresaw  must  be  a  fight  to  the 
finish.    If  the  curse  of  slavery  was  ever  to  be  removed  from 


A   HOUSE  DIVIDED  159 

Kentucky,  the  machinery  for  gradual  emancipation  must  be 
set  up  in  the  new  constitution.  And  Fayette  County,  the  home 
of  the  chief  exponents  of  both  factions,  was,  as  usual,  the  bat- 
tleground. 

On  the  eve  of  hostilities  the  proslavery  party  of  the  Blue- 
grass  paused  long  enough  to  entertain  Lincoln's  old  personal 
and  political  enemy,  General  James  Shields,  United  States  sen- 
ator-elect from  Illinois.  In  1842  Shields,  then  state  auditor- 
vain,  blustering,  socially  ambitious  but  extremely  sensitive,  who 
sometimes  referred  to  himself  as  "the  gallant  bachelor  from 
Tyrone  County,  Ireland"— had  been  a  victim  of  Mary  Todd's 
devastating  wit.  The  Sangamo  Journal  had  published  several 
communications  to  the  editor,  with  Shields  as  the  subject,  pur- 
porting to  have  been  written  by  a  poor  old  widow  who  called 
herself  "Aunt  Becca  of  Lost  Townships."  Having  poured  a 
stream  of  scalding  satire  over  the  bewildered  bachelor,  the 
writer  in  one  of  her  letters  changed  tone,  made  violent  love 
to  him,  offered  her  hand  in  marriage,  and  described  herself 
as  "not  over  sixty,  just  four  feet  three  in  my  bare  feet  and  not 
much  more  around  the  girth;  and  for  color  I  would  not  turn 
my  back  to  nary  a  gal  in  the  Lost  Townships."  The  epistle 
closed  with  a  postscript:  "If  he  concludes  to  marry,  I  shall  en- 
force one  condition,  that  is,  if  he  should  ever  happen  to  gallant 
any  young  gals  home  of  nights  from  our  house  he  must  not 
squeeze  their  hands."5 

Lincoln  had  assumed  responsibility  for  the  letter,  and  hotly 
incensed,  Shields  challenged  him  to  a  duel.  Lincoln,  with  his 
enormous  reach,  towering  head  and  shoulders  above  the  stockily 
built,  short-armed  Shields,  selected  cavalry  broadswords  of  the 
largest  size  as  weapons.6  But  as  they  reached  the  scene  of  battle 
on  "Bloody  Island,"  in  the  Mississippi,  below  Alton,  the  counsel 
of  friends  prevailed,  and  the  duel  was  called  off  "with  honor  to 
all  concerned."7 

On  Thursday,  February  15,  1849,  "the  gallant  bachelor  from 
Tyrone  County"  was  given  a  warm  welcome  to  Mary  Todd's 


160  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

home  town  and  a  public  dinner  tendered  to  him  at  the  Phoenix 
Hotel.  "In  response  to  a  complimentary  toast,"  said  the  Ob- 
server, "General  Shields  made  a  beautiful  and  eloquent  speech 
which  drew  forth  repeated  applause  from  the  company."  And 
the  account  of  the  banquet  concluded  with  the  obvious  state- 
ment that  after  "a  number  of  voluntary  toasts  were  drunk,  the 
greatest  hilarity  and  good  feeling  prevailed,  and  the  company 
separated  about  six  o'clock  in  the  best  possible  spirits."8 

A  few  days  after  the  departure  of  General  Shields  the  eman- 
cipationists wheeled  a  heavy  gun  into  position  and  fired  the 
first  shot  of  the  memorable  campaign  for  delegates  to  the  con- 
stitutional convention.  It  came  in  the  form  of  a  long  and 
vigorous  letter  on  slavery  from  Henry  Clay,  then  in  New  Or- 
leans, to  his  friend,  Richard  Pindell,  at  Lexington.  In  this 
letter  Clay  stated  his  deliberate  conviction  of  the  justice  and 
wisdom  of  gradual  emancipation,  and  outlined  a  comprehensive 
plan  for  its  accomplishment.  In  conclusion  he  said:  "Kentucky 
enjoys  high  respect  and  honorable  consideration  throughout 
the  Union  and  throughout  the  civilized  world;  but,  in  my 
humble  opinion,  no  title  which  she  has  to  the  esteem  and 
admiration  of  mankind,  no  deeds  of  her  former  glory,  would 
equal  in  greatness  and  grandeur,  that  of  being  the  pioneer 
state  in  removing  from  her  soil  every  trace  of  human  slavery, 
and  in  establishing  the  descendants  of  Africa  within  her  juris- 
diction in  the  native  land  of  their  forefathers."9 

This  unequivocal  declaration  of  Henry  Clay  gave  a  power- 
ful impetus  to  the  cause  of  emancipation  in  Kentucky.  It  was 
printed  in  many  newspapers  throughout  the  country  and  se- 
verely condemned  by  the  southern  press.  "Henry  Clay's  true 
character  now  stands  revealed,"  exclaimed  the  Richmond  En- 
quirer. "The  man  is  an  abolitionist."  "If  Kentucky  will  abolish 
slavery,"  declared  the  New  Orleans  Crescent,  "she  should  take 
all  the  responsibilities  for  the  act— if  she  will  join  the  Northern 
Allies  let  her  do  so  at  her  risk— if  she  be  anxious  no  longer  to 
make  common  cause  with  the  South,  she  has  a  right  to  go  over, 
but  there  is  no  reason  why  the  other  Southern  States  should 


A   HOUSE  DIVIDED  161 

build  a  bridge  to  facilitate  her  passage."10  Mass  meetings  were 
held  and  resolutions  offered  requesting  Clay  to  resign  his  seat 
in  the  United  States  Senate.  But  the  old  mariner  faced  the 
tempest  with  serenity.  "As  you  were  absent  I  sent  to  Richard 
Pindell  a  letter  on  the  Emancipation  question,"  he  wrote  his 
son  James.  "I  regret  to  hear  that  it  was  not  popular.  I  suppose 
that  my  letter  will  bring  on  me  some  odium.  I  nevertheless 
wish  it  published.  I  owe  that  to  the  cause,  and  to  myself,  and 
to  posterity."11 

On  April  14  citizens  of  Lexington  and  Fayette  County  met 
at  the  city  hall  to  select  representatives  to  the  statewide  eman- 
cipation meeting  shortly  to  be  held  at  Frankfort.  Edward 
Oldham,  Senator  Todd's  business  partner,  was  in  the  chair,  and 
after  Henry  Clay  and  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  had  addressed 
the  meeting,  the  following  resolutions  were  adopted: 

Resolved:  That  this  meeting,  composed  of  citizens  of  the  County 
of  Fayette,  met  in  pursuance  of  public  notice,  to  consider  the  ques- 
tion of  slavery  in  this  Commonwealth,  considering  that  hereditary 
domestic  slavery  as  it  exists  among  us: 

1.  Is  contrary  to  the  natural  rights  of  mankind, 

2.  Is  opposed  to  the  fundamental  principles  of  free  government, 

3.  Is  inconsistent  with  a  state  of  sound  morality, 

4.  Is  hostile  to  the  prosperity  of  the  Commonwealth, 

We  are  therefore  of  opinion,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  made  per- 
petual, and  that  the  convention  about  to  meet  to  amend  the  con- 
stitution of  this  state  affords  a  proper  occasion  on  which  steps  shall 
be  taken  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  slavery,  in  such  way  as  shall 
be  found  practicable  in  itself,  just  as  regards  the  masters  of  slaves, 
and  beneficial  to  the  slaves  themselves.12 

But  not  even  the  Observer's  idolatry  of  Henry  Clay  could 
induce  it  to  swallow  the  "Emancipation  heresy"  contained  in 
these  resolutions.  "If  gentlemen  do  go  on  resolving  upon  the 
fundamental  rights  of  mankind  as  applicable  to  the  slave  popu- 
lation," warned  the  editor,  "they  will  most  surely  rouse  the 
sleeping  lion  whose  step  will  be  as  majestic  as  his  roar  will  be 
terrible."13 


162  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

On  the  following  Saturday  a  "Union"  meeting  composed 
of  proslavery  advocates  from  both  the  Whig  and  Democratic 
parties  assembled  at  the  courthouse  and  adopted  a  series  of 
counterresolutions: 

Resolved:  That  the  institution  of  slavery,  as  it  exists  in  Ken- 
tucky, is  not  "inconsistent  with  a  state  of  sound  morality,"  nor  is 
it  prejudicial  to  the  best  interests  of  the  Commonwealth,  nor  to 
the  real  happiness  of  the  negro  himself. 

Resolved:  That  any  provision  in  the  new  Constitution  for  the 
immediate  or  gradual  emancipation  of  slavery  in  our  state,  would 
be  fraught  with  incalculable  injury  to  the  people  of  our  Common- 
wealth. 

Resolved:  That  we  will  not  support  any  candidate  for  the  con- 
vention who  is  in  favor  of  the  Negro  Law  of  1833,  (so  called)  being 
incorporated  in  the  Constitution;  or  who  is  in  favor  of  either  con- 
stitutional or  legislative  emancipation.14 

Following  these  skirmishes  the  proslavery  Union  party  of 
Fayette  nominated  Judge  Aaron  K.  Woolley,  son-in-law  of  Rob- 
ert (Old  Duke)  Wickliffe,  and  his  kinsman,  Robert  N.  Wick- 
liffe,  for  delegates  to  the  convention.  The  emancipationists 
selected  Dr.  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  and  Samuel  Shy  as  their 
representatives,  and  the  bitterest  political  battle  ever  fought 
in  Kentucky  was  on.  Though  the  emancipationists  of  Fayette 
were  in  the  overwhelming  minority,  they  made  up  for  their 
lack  in  numbers  by  the  ability  and  courage  of  their  leaders. 
The  Union  party  had  no  such  champion  as  the  eloquent  "Bob" 
Breckinridge  with  his  clear,  resonant  voice  and  keen  logic, 
deadly  as  the  thrust  of  a  rapier,  nor  had  they  an  equal  to  that 
dauntless  Knight  of  the  Bowie  Knife,  Cash  Clay,  who  already 
was  deeply  worried  about  the  Doctor. 

Breckinridge  was  a  preacher— a  man  of  God— with  neither 
training  nor  experience  in  personal  combat.  Yet  his  withering 
sarcasm,  his  bitter  denunciation  of  slavery  and  all  its  works, 
invited  bodily  assault  at  any  time.  This  bothered  Cash  greatly 
until  he  contrived  a  device  for  the  Doctor's  protection  which 
he  believed,  all  things  considered,  might  do  fairly  well. 


A   HOUSE  DIVIDED  163 

One  evening  he  drove  out  to  "Braedalbane,"  country  seat 
of  the  Breckinridges  since  the  early  days  of  the  Republic  when 
the  Doctor's  father  sat  in  the  cabinet  of  Thomas  Jefferson. 
Finding  his  colleague  in  his  study  working  on  the  speech  with 
which  he  intended  to  open  his  campaign,  Cash  plunged  at 
once  into  the  object  of  his  visit.  The  times  were  rough.  They 
would  be  rougher  as  the  contest  went  on.  Breckinridge  would 
be  constantly  exposed  to  the  reckless  frenzy  of  proslavery  fa- 
natics who  would  not  hesitate  to  take  his  life  or  to  do  him 
serious  harm.  Feeling  deep  concern  for  his  safety,  Clay  said 
that  he  had  personally  designed  a  weapon  especially  for  the 
Doctor's  inexperienced  use,  which  he  had  just  had  made  by  a 
silversmith  in  Cincinnati.  He  then  produced  the  wickedest- 
looking  knife  that  anybody  in  the  Bluegrass  had  ever  seen  or 
heard  of— with  a  seven-inch  blade,  two  inches  in  width  at  the 
hilt— and  proceeded  enthusiastically  to  demonstrate  its  won- 
derful simplicity  of  construction  and  efficiency  of  operation. 

Strapped  securely  but  loosely  under  the  left  arm,  it  hung 
from  its  scabbard  of  coin  silver— unlike  all  other  knives— handle 
down,  the  blade  held  in  place  by  a  spring  at  the  hilt.  A  grasp 
of  the  handle  would  trip  the  spring  and  release  the  long,  curved, 
razor-sharp,  double-edged  blade  at  "belly  level"!  No  assailant 
would  ever  be  looking  for  a  weapon  drawn  from  that  position. 
With  the  utmost  economy  of  motion,  all  the  Doctor  had  to  do 
as  the  foe  advanced  upon  him,  Cash  explained,  was  to  "point 
the  instrument  at  his  navel  and  thrust  vigorously"! 

It  is  not  known  how  regularly  the  good  Doctor  wore  this 
grisly  gift,  but  years  later,  when  showing  it  to  his  youngest  son, 
he  confided  that  he  always  felt  sinful  when  he  had  it  on.  "Every 
time  I  gestured  heavenward,"  said  he,  "that  infernal  knife 
thumped  against  my  ribs!"15 

Clay's  prediction  about  rough  times  ahead  soon  came  true. 
In  McCracken  County  two  candidates,  Judge  James  Campbell 
and  Benedict  Austin,  engaged  in  several  joint  debates.  "In- 
sulting  and   contemptuous   language   passed   between   them." 


164  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

However,  at  Wyatt's  campground  they  "shook  hands  and  dined 
together,"  seemed  to  be  on  more  friendly  terms,  and  friends 
believed  that  all  danger  of  personal  altercation  was  over.  Next 
afternoon  they  met  again  in  the  courthouse  at  Paducah.  Pres- 
ently in  the  course  of  his  remarks  Judge  Campbell  began  to 
relate  a  story  which,  since  Austin  was  a  Catholic  and  their 
former  difficulties  well  known,  threw  the  crowd  into  consterna- 
tion. The  Judge  said  that  when  Mrs.  White,  a  daughter  of 
Governor  John  Adair,  was  in  Rome,  she  "was  anxious  to  see 
the  Pope,  but  when  informed  that  all  who  visited  the  Pope, 
except  sovereigns,  were  required  to  kiss  his  big  toe,"  she  de- 
clined "because  she  herself  was  a  sovereign." 

As  the  Judge  finished  his  anecdote,  Austin  leaped  to  his 
feet,  his  face  livid  with  rage,  and  shouted,  "Your  statement  is 
as  false  as  hell!"  A  fist  fight  immediately  followed,  in  the  midst 
of  which  Judge  Campbell  pulled  his  pistol  and  shot  Austin 
dead  on  the  platform.16 

Everywhere  in  the  Bluegrass,  Cassius  M.  Clay  was  the  Moses 
of  the  emancipationists.  Unintimidated  by  threats  of  violence, 
he  harangued  hostile  audiences  from  every  stump,  denouncing 
the  enemies  of  gradual  emancipation  with  scorching  invectives 
and  pleading  the  cause  of  the  slave  with  all  the  power  of  his 
magnetic  personality. 

At  one  of  the  villages  near  Lexington  large  posters  an- 
nounced that  no  antislavery  speeches  would  be  permitted  under 
penalty  of  death.  Some  of  the  citizens  sent  for  Clay,  and 
promptly  at  the  appointed  hour,  with  his  old  gray  carpetbag 
on  his  arm,  he  walked  unattended  down  the  center  aisle  of 
the  packed  courtroom,  mounted  the  rostrum,  and  calmly  faced 
the  muttering,  jostling  crowd. 

"For  those  who  support  the  laws  of  our  country,"  he  an- 
nounced in  an  even,  steady  voice,  "1  have  this  argument,"  and 
he  placed  a  copy  of  the  Constitution  on  one  end  of  the  table. 
"For  those  who  believe  in  the  Bible,  I  have  an  argument  from 
this,"  and  he  placed  a  copy  of  the  New  Testament  on  the  other 
end  of  the  table.    "And  for  those  who  regard  neither  the  laws 


A   HOUSE  DIVIDED  165 

of  God  or  man"— the  speaker  paused  and  fixed  his  dark  piercing 
eyes  upon  the  most  threatening  group  in  the  audience— "I  have 
this  argument,"  and  he  laid  a  brace  of  long  black-barreled 
pistols  with  his  bowie  knife  on  the  table  in  front  of  him.  Then 
he  plunged  without  interruption  into  his  speech.17 

Campaigns  for  the  General  Assembly  added  further  excite- 
ment to  the  already  overwrought  situation.  Early  in  the  sum- 
mer Robert  S.  Todd  was  nominated  by  the  Whigs  to  succeed 
himself  in  the  Senate.  His  opponent  was  Colonel  Oliver  Ander- 
son, also  a  Whig  but  running  on  the  Union  ticket,  the  owner 
of  a  hundred  slaves  and  one  of  the  strongest  proslavery  advocates 
in  the  state. 

With  political  lines  largely  swept  away,  Todd  soon  found 
himself  in  serious  difficulty.  Anderson  attacked  him,  as  had  a 
former  opponent,  in  the  most  vulnerable  spot,  his  slavery  record 
in  the  legislature.  He  charged  Todd  with  being  an  emancipa- 
tionist at  heart.  He  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  during  all 
the  years  that  Todd  had  represented  Fayette  County,  both  as 
representative  and  senator,  he  had  steadily  opposed  the  repeal 
of  the  Nonimportation  Act  to  the  very  end  and,  after  its  repeal, 
had  voted  against  the  Immunity  Act,  intended  for  the  protection 
of  all  persons  who  had  hitherto  violated  the  Negro  Law. 

These  assaults  on  their  candidate  were  sharply  criticized  by 
those  proslavery  Whigs  who  for  various  reasons  were  not  in 
sympathy  with  the  Union  ticket.  "Colonel  Anderson,"  wrote  a 
Todd  supporter  who  signed  his  card  "X,"  "is  so  much  put  out 
by  the  nomination  of  Robert  S.  Todd  as  a  candidate  for  the 
Senate,  that  he  makes  statements  to  his  prejudice  which  he 
must  have  known  to  be  incorrect.  He  calls  him  the  Emancipa- 
tion Candidate.  It  is  not  so— for  one  I  would  gladly  own  him 
as  a  brother  in  the  cause.  He  is  a  gallant  and  able  Whig— op- 
posed to  all  kinds  of  emancipation  and  a  terribly  popular  man. 
Ah!    There  is  the  secret."18 

On  June  13  Todd  again  made  a  public  statement  through 
the  Observer  "To  the  voters  of  Fayette  County,"  concerning 
his  views  upon  the  all-absorbing  subject  of  the  day.    "Knowing 


166  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

that  considerable  excitement  exists  on  the  subject  of  Emanci- 
pation, Slavery,  etc.,"  he  said,  "I  feel  it  due  to  myself  and  those 
whom  I  offer  to  represent,  to  show  the  position  I  have  hereto- 
fore, and  now  occupy,  on  those  subjects."  He  then  reminded 
his  constituents  that  the  present  constitution  recognized  Negro 
slavery  as  an  institution  that  pre-existed  both  of  the  earlier 
constitutions  of  Kentucky  and  was  inserted  after  "mature  de- 
liberations"; that  "it  was  believed  then  to  have  become  too 
much  identified  with  the  interests  of  the  state  to  be  successfully 
assailed,  and  that  it  is  now  thrice  as  great.  I  therefore  consider 
it  an  impracticable  question,  and  particularly  so,  in  the  absence 
of  an  unanimity  which  is  indispensable  to  its  success.  That 
unanimity  is  not  to  be  expected."  He  denied  that  he  was  for 
emancipation  or  that  he  would  "interfere  with  slavery  as  a 
vested  right  in  any  manner  whatever." 

Todd  admitted  that  he  had  been  "ever  in  favor  of  the  Act 
of  1833,  prohibiting  the  importation  of  slaves  into  the  Com- 
monwealth," and  that  he  "would  individually  be  willing  to 
see  it  incorporated  in  the  new  constitution.  However,"  he  said 
somewhat  evasively,  "this  question  must  be  settled  by  the  con- 
vention, and  cannot  by  possibility  be  subject  to  the  decision 
of  the  Senate,  whose  duty  and  oath  would  require  them  to 
observe,  not  make  constitutions;  but  if  the  question  should 
come  before  the  Senate  (I  being  a  member)  and  the  opinion 
of  a  majority  of  my  constituents  should  be  different  from  my 
own,  I  should  feel  myself  bound,  (as  the  question  is  only  one 
of  expediency)  to  represent  their  views  instead  of  my  own- 
that  being  the  duty  of  a  representative."19 

One  may  well  imagine  the  impression  that  Senator  Todd's 
statement  made  on  his  son-in-law  at  Springfield.  Lincoln  knew 
very  well  that  Todd  was  no  abolitionist,  nor  except  for  his 
close  personal  friendship  for  Cassius  M.  Clay  had  he  been 
identified  with  antislavery  agitation  in  any  way.  But  he  also 
knew  that  Robert  S.  Todd  was  a  man  who  sincerely  deplored 
the  existence  of  slavery,  that  his  public  record  in  quieter  times 
showed  a  consistent  opposition  to  all  forms  of  the  slave  traffic, 


A   HOUSE  DIVIDED  167 

that  he  took  pride  in  never  having  sold  a  slave  or  having  bought 
one  in  many  years.20  Yet  the  position  that  Todd  now  took  was 
certainly  a  disappointment  to  Lincoln.  A  condition  in  the  body 
politic  which  could  cause  so  sturdy  a  character  as  Robert  S. 
Todd  to  equivocate  upon  a  vital  principle  for  the  sake  of  mere 
"expediency"  must  indeed  be  serious.  It  is  little  wonder  that 
as  Lincoln  watched  the  struggle  in  Kentucky  and  read  the  card 
of  his  father-in-law,  he  began  to  feel,  as  he  told  Major  Whitney, 
his  "first,  real  specific  alarm  about  the  institution  of  slavery." 
In  reply  to  Todd's  card  Colonel  Anderson  restated  his  own 
principles  with  vehement  emphasis.  "I  am,"  he  said,  "what 
may  be  called  a  thorough  pro-slavery  man.  So  far  from  admit- 
ting the  institution  to  be  a  necessary  evil,  I  believe  it  tends  to 
exalt  the  free  population  and  would  be  unwilling  to  give  it  up, 
even  if  by  a  word  I  could  remove  the  negro  population  to 
Africa.  So  far  from  deeming  it  inconsistent  with  a  sound  state 
of  morality,  I  believe  it  to  be  recognized  and  countenanced 
both  by  Scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament."  As  for 
the  emancipationists  who  advocate  sending  slaves  to  Liberia, 
he  said: 

The  wings  of  fancy  are  called  to  the  rescue,  and  laden  with  a  load 
so  heavy,  so  black,  so  entirely  African,  that  it  is  with  difficulty  that 
they  can  ascend  to  the  regions  of  poetry,  but  after  a  long  struggle, 
worthy  of  a  nobler  cause,  they  do  get  into  the  seventh  heaven  of 
imagination,  and  oh!  the  scene  of  ineffable  beauty,  of  indescribable 
loveliness  that  is  depicted!  Millions  of  negroes  roaming  beneath 
the  green  palm  trees,  by  the  side  of  meandering  rivers,  and  in  the 
enjoyment  of  civilization,  the  arts  and  sciences— and  all  from  Ken- 
tucky! Then  another  chord  is  struck,  the  African  harp  rings  again, 
and  we  hear  of  all  Africa  from  the  low  sunny  plains  of  the  Nile 
to  where  the  lordly  Niger  flows  through  its  burning  sands— every- 
where there  is  a  negro— being  leavened  by  this  little  band  of  freed 
Kentucky  slaves. 

The  Colonel  then  argued  at  length  that  the  history  of  man- 
kind showed  beyond  doubt  that  there  must  always  be  slavery 
of  one  kind  or  another,  and  that  the  question  for  the  freemen 


168  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

of  Fayette,  especially  the  nonslaveholding  whites,  to  decide  was 
whether  they  would  rather  see  the  Negroes  slaves  or  perhaps 
their  own  children  as  "menials  and  cooks  and  scullions  in  the 
kitchens  of  more  wealthy  neighbors." 

"I  repeat,"  said  Colonel  Anderson,  "all  that  I  have  said 
with  regard  to  the  position  of  R.  S.  Todd  and  can  prove  it. 
Who  constituted  a  majority  of  the  committee  which  nominated 
him?  Emancipationists.  Who,  almost,  if  not  entirely,  conducted 
the  proceedings  of  the  meeting  which  nominated  him?  Eman- 
cipationists." He  reiterated  the  declaration  of  former  Chief 
Justice  Robertson  that  "his  views  were  identical  with  those  of 
Mr.  Todd  upon  the  subject  of  emancipation"  and  then  quoted 
Judge  Robertson  as  saying,  "Slavery  in  Kentucky  is  a  moral 
and  political  evil,  a  curse  to  the  white  race." 

Turning  his  attention  to  the  anonymous  X  who  had  re- 
cently defended  Todd,  he  said: 

Would  it  however  be  deemed  out  of  place  for  me,  in  conclusion, 
to  offer  by  way  of  suggestion  that  the  youngster  who  wrote  this 
scurrilous  article,  for  it  is  impossible  that  a  person  full-grown  to 
man's  estate  should  be  silly  enough  to  be  caught  in  such  a  fool 
scrape— would  it,  I  say,  be  out  of  place  to  suggest  that  the  young 
gentleman  has  some  dark-skinned  Dulcinea  in  view,  by  whom  he 
hopes  to  rear  an  interesting  family  of  little  kinkey-heads,  and  that 
therefore  he  thinks  it  but  acting  the  part  of  an  affectionate  para- 
mour and  father  to  do  all  he  can  toward  their  emancipation.21 

And  so  the  canvass  went  grimly  on,  with  Todd  and  Ander- 
son, the  candidates  for  the  constitutional  convention,  and  Breck- 
inridge and  Clay  speaking  to  the  excited  citizens  of  various 
communities  wherever  a  crowd  was  gathered  in  the  villages, 
at  crossroad  stores,  country  meetinghouses,  and  voting  places. 
"Old  Fayette,"  observed  the  Louisville  Weekly  Courier,  "is  the 
theater  of  a  more  lively  discussion  on  the  subject  of  slavery 
than  any  other  portion  of  our  state."22 

On  Friday,  June  15,  a  tragedy  occurred  which  added  more 
fuel  to  the  flames  and  further  widened  the  breach  between  the 
contending  factions.    A  regimental  muster  was  in  progress  at 


A   HOUSE  DIVIDED  169 

the  village  of  Foxtown  on  the  Lexington-Richmond  turnpike. 
It  was  announced  that  Squire  Turner,  the  proslavery  candidate 
for  the  convention  from  Madison  County,  and  Cassius  M.  Clay 
would  address  the  gathering  that  afternoon  from  a  stand  erected 
in  a  nearby  woodland.  Sharp  exchanges  had  already  passed 
between  the  two  men  on  previous  occasions,  and  it  was  freely 
predicted  that  a  personal  encounter  could  no  longer  be  averted. 

Turner  opened  the  debate,  as  usual,  with  a  violent,  sarcastic 
denunciation  of  Clay.  He  revived  the  old  controversy  over  the 
removal  of  The  True  American  and  read  extracts  from  that 
paper  which  he  charged  were  responsible  for  the  "late  stam- 
pede of  the  slaves  of  Fayette."  At  the  conclusion  of  Turner's 
speech  Clay  took  the  stand  and  launched  a  vicious,  abusive 
counterattack,  which  was  interrupted  by  Cyrus  Turner,  the 
eldest  son  of  the  candidate,  who  rushed  toward  the  speaker 
gesticulating  wildly.  "You  are  a  damned  liar,"  he  shouted,  and 
Clay,  jumping  off  the  platform,  struck  him  a  staggering  blow  in 
the  face  with  his  fist. 

In  an  instant  Clay  found  himself  surrounded  by  the  rela- 
tives and  friends  of  his  adversary.  Attempting  to  draw  his 
bowie  knife,  he  was  struck  on  the  head  with  a  club  in  the  hands 
of  Alfred  Turner,  and  the  weapon  was  jerked  from  his  grasp. 
Just  then  Thomas  Turner,  Cyrus'  brother,  thrust  a  six-barreled 
revolver  in  his  face  and  snapped  it  three  times,  but  the  per- 
cussion caps  failed  to  explode.  Dazed  and  reeling  from  blows 
on  the  head,  Clay  attempted  to  recover  his  knife,  and  seizing 
the  blade  with  his  bare  hand,  which  cut  his  fingers  to  the  bone, 
he  wrested  it  from  the  possession  of  its  captor,  but  not  before 
he  had  received  a  deep  stab  in  the  left  breast  over  the  heart. 
Blinded  with  fury  and  pain,  bleeding  from  many  wounds,  and 
with  a  gaping  hole  in  his  chest,  Clay  retaliated  by  burying  his 
knife  to  the  hilt  in  the  abdomen  of  Cyrus  Turner. 

Both  wounded  men  were  carried  into  a  nearby  residence 
and  placed  in  adjoining  rooms.  A  doctor  was  summoned,  but 
it  was  not  believed  that  either  would  live  until  he  arrived.  A 
telegram  was  dispatched  to  Clay's  mother  at  Frankfort:    "Dear 


170  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Madam:  Your  son,  C.  M.  Clay,  was  very  dangerously  stabbed 
at  Foxtown,  a  few  hours  since.  If  you  would  see  him  alive, 
come  quickly.  The  wound  is  in  the  lungs.  Yours  truly,  Robert 
H.  Stone." 

The  Observer  on  the  following  day  announced  that  "Gen- 
tlemen who  witnessed  the  conflict,  state  that  Mr.  Clay  is  dead, 
and  that  his  adversary  is  not  expected  to  recover,"  but  the  next 
issue  made  a  correction,  saying  that  "Mr.  Clay  still  lives,  but 
his  adversary  Mr.  Turner  lingered  until  about  12  o'clock  on 
Saturday  night  when  he  expired."23 

The  news  of  the  Foxtown  tragedy  spread  swiftly  all  over 
Kentucky,  thence  into  other  states,24  and  bitterness  between 
the  contending  parties  became  even  more  intense,  if  that  were 
possible.  Slavery  advocates  proclaimed  Turner  a  martyr  who 
had  fallen  "in  the  great  cause  of  white  supremacy"  before  the 
reckless  blade  of  that  "Abolitionist  madman,  C.  M.  Clay."  On 
the  other  hand,  the  emancipationists  charged  that  the  fatal  en- 
counter was  but  another  instance  of  foul  conspiracy  on  the  part 
of  the  slavocracy  to  intimidate  and  murder,  which  had  been 
again  thwarted  by  the  stubborn  courage  of  a  "dauntless  cham- 
pion of  human  freedom." 

Then  in  the  midst  of  all  the  turmoil,  hatred,  and  bloodshed, 
with  the  swift,  silent  flight  of  a  bird  of  prey,  the  gaunt,  hooded 
specter  of  pestilence  swooped  down  upon  the  warring  factions. 
An  autopsy  upon  the  body  of  Tom  O'Haver,  an  old  Irishman 
who  worked  in  a  stone  quarry  at  Lexington,  resulted  in  a  diag- 
nosis of  cholera,  and  in  a  few  days  the  dreaded  disease  in  viru- 
lent form  was  sweeping  like  wildfire  through  the  stricken  city. 
Men,  women,  and  children,  rich  and  poor,  white  and  black, 
were  suddenly  prostrated,  lingered  a  few  hours  in  violent  pain, 
and  died.  As  many  as  forty  deaths  occurred  in  twenty-four 
hours,  and  the  terror  of  the  inhabitants  was  indescribable.  Busi- 
ness came  to  a  standstill,  and  many  of  the  stores  on  Main  Street 
closed  altogether.  Hundreds  of  the  wealthier  citizens  hastily 
locked  up  their  houses  and  fled  northward  to  distant  watering 
places.25 


Dr.  Breckinridge's  knife,  designed  by  Clay 
Original  owned  by  the  author 


v^# 


f 


Cassius  Clay's  "dress-up"  bowie  knife  and  dirk 
Originals  owned  by  the  author 


A   HOUSE  DIVIDED  171 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Pratt  wrote  in  his  diary:  "Our  town  has 
looked  deserted,  scarcely  anyone  from  the  country  in,  and  quite 
a  number  afflicted,  nearly  everyone  has  symptoms.  It  is  sup- 
posed 1500  white  persons  have  left  town  from  alarm.  I  have  not 
yet  been  affected  or  my  family  except  my  wife  night  before 
last  I  think  had  symptoms."26 

The  more  courageous  of  those  who  remained  at  home  strove 
to  calm  the  fears  of  the  public  and  prepared  to  combat  the 
epidemic  as  best  they  could.  The  city  poorhouse  was  turned 
into  a  hospital,  and  all  inmates  of  the  workhouse  were  released 
to  nurse  the  sick.  The  farmers  of  the  county  sent  droves  of 
sheep  to  town  for  slaughter,  and  Dudley  &  Carty  and  W.  K. 
Higgins  opened  their  large  wholesale  grocery  stores  to  the  des- 
titute free  of  charge.  At  the  suggestion  of  scientists  at  Tran- 
sylvania batteries  of  field  artillery  were  parked  in  various  sec- 
tions of  the  city  and  fired  in  salvos  at  regular  intervals  in  an 
effort  to  rend  the  atmosphere  by  concussion  and  thus  in  some 
mysterious  manner  reduce  the  violence  of  the  disease. 

As  weeks  went  by,  the  inhabitants  of  Lexington  grew  more 
accustomed  to  the  situation  and  fought  the  deadly  plague 
calmly  and  doggedly  in  the  daytime,  but  horror  enough  to  try 
the  stoutest  hearts  increased  with  the  coming  of  night.  Lard- 
oil  street  lamps  sputtered  feebly  through  palls  of  smoke  from 
booming  cannon  and  threw  weird,  grotesque  shadows  across 
the  heavily  laden  death  carts  as  they  jolted  and  clattered  over 
rough  cobblestones  on  their  way  to  the  graveyards.  Streamers 
of  crape  flapped  in  the  night  wind  from  the  doorposts  of  many 
darkened,  silent  houses.  Down  the  empty  streets  the  night 
watchman  monotonously  intoned  the  passing  hours,  and  to 
those  who  lived  in  the  vicinity  of  Mary  Todd's  old  home  near 
the  Baptist  churchyard  came  the  ghastly  sound  of  falling  clods 
and  the  thud  and  scrape  of  pick  and  spade,  digging,  digging, 
digging.27 

"I  have  seen  many  distressing  sights,"  wrote  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Pratt  on  July  15,  "whole  families  under  the  scourge  &  none 
to  administer.  Multitudes  have  left  town  for  the  hills.  There 
are  three  preachers  of  us  who  remain  &  visit  constantly,  viz. 


172  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Dr.  R.  J.  Breckinridge,  Dr.  Miller  &  myself.  God  has  graciously 
spared  and  preserved  us.  ...  I  found  at  Mrs.  Trimble's  7  down 
&  no  white  person  to  aid  her  &  she  just  off  her  bed.  May  the 
Good  Lord  have  mercy  on  us." 

And  on  July  29  Pratt  wrote  again:  "On  Friday  night,  it 
rained  all  night  and  on  Saturday  morning  the  worst  form  of 
cholera  broke  out,  nearly  all  dying  that  were  attacked  in  36 
hours.  .  .  .  O,  What  afflicting  times.  May  the  Good  Lord  lift 
his  rod  from  off  the  community."  Next  day  he  noted  that  he 
had  attended  four  funerals  "in  less  than  an  hour.  I  only  made 
a  few  remarks  at  each,  sung  &  prayed." 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  such  public  travail  interest  was  by  no 
means  lost  in  the  approaching  election.  Since  crowds  could  no 
longer  gather  in  town,  the  opposing  candidates  addressed  the 
voters  in  various  places  in  the  county  where  the  epidemic  was 
not  prevalent.  Cassius  M.  Clay,  still  confined  to  bed  by  his 
wounds,  issued  defiant  cards  to  the  press,  and  Robert  S.  Todd 
and  Colonel  Oliver  Anderson  continued  their  vigorous  cam- 
paign for  the  Senate.  But  the  battle  was  now  being  waged  in 
the  face  of  a  relentless  and  impartial  foe.  Three  of  the  candi- 
dates for  the  convention— Woolley,  Shy,  and  Wickliffe— fell  ill 
at  the  same  time,  and  Breckinridge,  the  remaining  candidate, 
announced  that  his  duties  as  a  minister  would  prevent  the 
filling  of  any  more  speaking  engagements.  "My  friends  and 
neighbors,"  he  sadly  wrote,  "are  sick  and  dying  around  me. 
The  cholera  continues  to  prevail  very  severely,  and  a  great 
many  of  the  people  are  gone  off  from  fright."28 

On  July  7  the  deaths  of  Drs.  Whitney  and  Brockway  were 
announced,  a  few  days  later  the  illness  of  Dr.  Jones  proved 
fatal,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  month  so  many  physicians  had 
died  that  an  appeal  was  made  to  nearby  towns  for  medical  aid. 
Henry  Clay  and  Mrs.  Clay  were  stricken  at  "Ashland"  but  soon 
recovered.  The  death  of  Dr.  Bascom,  president  of  Transylvania, 
was  announced  in  the  newspapers  but  proved  to  be  erroneous. 

Early  in  June,  Robert  S.  Todd  had  as  usual  taken  his  family 
to  "Buena  Vista"  for  the  summer.    The  railroad  ran  through 


A  HOUSE  DIVIDED  173 

his  place,  and  he  rode  up  to  Lexington  almost  every  day  on  the 
cars  to  attend  to  his  duties  as  president  of  the  Branch  Bank  of 
Kentucky.  The  hotly  contested  race  for  the  Senate  occupied 
all  of  his  spare  time,  and  he  canvassed  the  district  thoroughly, 
riding  long  distances  in  all  kinds  of  weather,  both  on  horseback 
and  in  his  buggy. 

On  Saturday,  July  7,  he  made  a  long  and  fatiguing  speech 
at  Spencer's  Mill  near  the  village  of  Fort  Springs,  and  on  Tues- 
day he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  chill,  followed  by  severe  pros- 
tration. Growing  rapidly  worse  in  spite  of  all  his  physicians 
from  Lexington  and  Frankfort  could  do,  he  made  his  will, 
signed  it  with  a  weak,  tremulous  hand,  and  on  Monday  morn- 
ing, July  16,  1849,  at  one  o'clock,  he  died. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  seventeenth  his  body  was  brought 
to  Lexington  "and  followed  to  its  final  resting  place  by  a  large 
concourse  of  sorrowing  friends."  The  terrible  toll  of  the  plague 
had  made  it  necessary  to  open  up  a  new  cemetery  on  the  Lees- 
town  pike,  and  here  in  "Boswell's  Woods"  beneath  the  tall, 
waving  bluegrass  sheltered  by  aged,  moss-grown  oaks,  the  mor- 
tal remains  of  Robert  S.  Todd  were  buried  on  the  crest  of  a 
gentle  slope  above  the  old  spring  where  his  father  and  the 
little  band  of  Kentucky  hunters  had  named  the  town  of  Lex- 
ington.29 

"We  are  again,"  said  the  Observer  the  next  day,  "in  the  dis- 
charge of  our  melancholy  duty,  compelled  to  chronicle  the 
death  of  another  of  our  most  respected,  beloved,  useful  and 
distinguished  citizens,  Robert  S.  Todd,  Esq.  .  .  .  He  had  im- 
pressed himself  indelibly  upon  the  country  for  the  zeal,  fidelity 
and  ability  with  which  he  discharged  all  his  various  and  mul- 
tiplied public  duties.  No  man  more  truly  and  faithfully  con- 
formed to  all  the  requisitions  of  virtue  and  benevolence,  and 
no  man  occupied  a  higher  position  in  the  society  in  which  he 
moved  than  Robert  S.  Todd.  He  was  emphatically  'the  noblest 
work  of  God— an  honest  man.'  " 

The  death  of  the  Whig  candidate  for  the  Senate  made  the 
prospect  of  victory  for  the  Union  ticket  brighter  than  ever. 


174  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

But  the  Whigs  were  not  ready  to  concede  defeat.  J.  R.  Dunlap 
was  chosen  as  Todd's  successor,  and  the  canvass  went  on.  The 
new  candidate  sought  at  once  to  placate  the  proslavery  mem- 
bers of  his  party  by  deploring  the  "agitation  of  a  subject  that 
is  exciting  the  Commonwealth  to  an  alarming  extent."  He 
announced  his  opposition  to  "any  interference  between  master 
and  slave  without  the  consent  of  the  master."  But  Dunlap 
was  not  the  shrewd,  veteran  politician  that  his  predecessor  had 
been.  Lacking  Todd's  great  personal  popularity  and  experi- 
ence, the  new  candidate  was  no  match  for  his  doughty  an- 
tagonist, who  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  his  new  opponent 
had,  while  a  member  of  the  House  in  1833,  been  instrumental 
in  passing  the  "iniquitous"  Nonimportation  Act  and  even  now 
admitted  that  he  favored  the  submisson  of  the  question  to  the 
convention. 

Meanwhile,  the  epidemic  continued,  and  Mayor  O.  F.  Payne 
issued  a  proclamation  fixing  Friday,  August  3,  as  a  "day  of 
general  fasting  and  humiliation  to  fervently  implore  the  Al- 
mighty for  the  arrest  of  the  step  of  the  Angel  of  Death,  which 
is  now  so  manifestly  and  terribly  abroad  among  us."30  And  on 
Friday  morning,  as  church  bells  tolled  the  call  to  prayer,  Judge 
Woolley,  the  leader  of  the  Union  ticket  for  the  convention, 
was  again  stricken,  lingered  through  the  day,  and  died  at  sun- 
down. 

Concerning  Judge  Woolley  the  Reverend  Mr.  Pratt  made 
the  following  entry  in  his  diary: 

Heard  that  Judge  A.  K.  Woolley  was  at  point  of  death.  Went  im- 
mediately to  see  him  but  could  not  gain  admission.  Poor  man  he 
died  that  evening,  he  was  taken  in  the  morning.  He  was  a  candidate 
for  the  Convention  8c  within  3  days  of  the  election  when  God  cut 
him  down.  A  most  talented  man  but  great  indulger  in  eating  & 
drinking  &  gambling,  etc.  The  night  before  he  was  on  a  frolic  til 
late  evening  defying  the  Cholera  I  am  told.  I  had  a  talk  with  him 
on  Religion  a  few  days  before,  told  me  he  was  skeptical  but  would 
not  be  called  an  infidel,  he  despised  one,  asked  for  loan  of  Edwards 
on  Will,  Butler's  Analogy,  said  wanted  to  believe  in  Christianity 
as  it  was  only  this  that  would  redeem  him  from  bad  habits.31 


A  HOUSE  DIVIDED  175 

With  the  election  for  the  legislature  and  the  convention 
only  a  few  days  off,  the  Observer  wrote  an  editorial  of  warning 
to  its  proslavery  readers.  It  reminded  them  that  "the  excite- 
ment of  a  protracted  and  most  arduous  canvass"  makes  it  cer- 
tain that  the  friends  of  emancipation  will  poll  their  full 
strength,  and  that  "the  opponents  of  emancipation  must  permit 
no  consideration  to  prevent  them  from  a  prompt  expression  of 
their  opinions  at  the  poll."32 

The  election  was  held  throughout  Kentucky  on  August  6, 
7,  and  8,  and  the  proslavery  ticket  swept  the  state.  In  Fayette 
the  victory  of  the  Union  party  was  overwhelming:  Anderson 
for  the  Senate,  and  Dudley,  Woolley's  successor,  and  Wickliffe 
for  the  convention,  carried  every  precinct  in  the  city  and  coun- 
ty.33 Through  violence,  bloodshed,  bitterness,  and  stormy  de- 
bate, unchastened  by  the  ravage  of  an  awful  plague,  the  people 
of  the  commonwealth  had  clung  stubbornly  to  their  ancient 
idol. 

As  Abraham  Lincoln  read  the  result  of  the  election  in  his 
native  state  through  the  columns  of  the  exulting  Observer,  the 
outlook  for  freedom  seemed  hopeless.  Out  of  all  the  counties 
in  Kentucky  not  a  single  emancipation  candidate  had  been 
elected  to  the  convention,  although  they  had  polled  thousands 
of  votes. 

"There  is  no  peaceful  extinction  of  slavery  in  prospect  for 
us,"  wrote  Lincoln  to  Judge  Robertson  of  Lexington;  "the  sig- 
nal failure  of  Henry  Clay,  and  other  good  and  great  men,  in 
1849,  to  effect  any  thing  in  favor  of  gradual  emancipation  in 
Kentucky  .  .  .  extinguishes  that  hope  utterly."34  Lincoln  had 
watched  the  struggle  with  deepest  interest.  Now  that  it  was 
over,  he  was  beginning  to  formulate  his  immortal  declaration 
that  "a  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand."  The  house 
had  not  fallen,  but  in  the  conviction  of  friend  and  foe  that  the 
cause  of  emancipation  was  forever  lost  in  Kentucky,  it  had 
ceased  to  be  divided. 


TWELVE 


Milly  and 
Alfred 


iHE  CRISP  sunny  days  of  early  autumn  saw  the  final  disap- 
pearance of  the  great  scourge  in  Lexington  and  Fayette  County. 
But  mute  witnesses  on  every  hand  bore  evidence  of  the  havoc 
it  had  wrought.  Empty  barrels,  boxes,  and  wastepaper  littered 
the  back  yards,  alleys,  and  sidewalks,  and  grass  was  growing  in 
the  streets.  Show  windows  of  business  houses,  unwashed  for 
months,  were  streaked  with  dust  and  grime.  The  doors  of 
some  stores  were  closed,  with  tattered,  weather-stained  pieces 
of  crape  on  the  knobs;  appraisers  were  busy  inside  preparing 
stocks  of  merchandise  for  the  auctioneer.1 

The  plague  had  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon  the  once  parklike 
countryside.  Beautiful  estates  were  now  surrounded  by  stag- 
nation and  decay.  Farming  implements  stood  rusting  in  the 
fields,  weeds  choked  the  yellow  corn  rows,  uncut  wheat  lay 
tangled  and  twisted  on  the  ground,  and  broad,  blackened  leaves 
of  tobacco  drooped,  rotting  on  the  stalks. 

The  will  of  Robert  S.  Todd  had  left  the  bulk  of  his  estate 
to  his  wife  Elizabeth,  his  slaves  to  her  for  life  and  then  to  her 
sons  and  daughters,  with  the  remainder  of  his  property  to  be 


MILLY  AND  ALFRED  111 

"divided  equally  in  just  proportions"  between  his  "first  and 
second  children."2  At  the  September  term  the  will  was  present- 
ed to  the  Fayette  County  Court,  but  George  Todd,  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln's youngest  brother,  appeared  and  objected  to  the  probate 
on  the  ground  that  the  document  bore  only  one  witness  instead 
of  two  as  required  by  law.  After  consideration  the  court  sus- 
tained the  objection,  rejected  the  will,  and  directed  that  the 
estate  be  distributed  equally  among  all  the  heirs  in  the  manner 
prescribed  by  the  statutes  of  Kentucky.3 

This  unexpected  turn  of  affairs  was  a  sad  blow  to  the  Widow 
Todd  and  her  eight  children,  six  of  whom  were  small  and 
utterly  dependent  upon  her  for  support.  It  meant  that  the 
widow,  who  now  qualified  as  administratrix,  would  be  com- 
pelled to  convert  her  husband's  estate,  including  his  one-third 
interest  in  the  firm  of  Oldham,  Todd  2c  Company,  into  cash 
at  forced  sales  and  divide  it  among  all  of  Robert  Todd's  four- 
teen children. 

At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings  Abraham  Lincoln  seems 
to  have  been  selected  by  common  consent  to  represent  the 
majority  of  the  first  children,  four  of  whom  lived  in  Springfield. 
There  is  no  indication  that  either  he  or  his  wife  or  any  of  the 
other  Springfield  heirs  took  any  part  in  the  proceedings  to 
invalidate  the  will,  but  now  that  probate  had  been  refused  and 
the  estate  had  to  be  settled,  Lincoln  assumed  the  role  of  legal 
adviser  to  the  interested  nonresidents.  And  it  was  time  that 
he  did  so,  for  there  were  already  important  matters  in  Lexing- 
ton that  demanded  immediate  attention. 

About  a  year  before  his  death  Robert  S.  Todd  had  filed  a 
suit  in  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court  against  Robert  Wickliffe  for 
the  recovery  of  a  large  estate,  formerly  owned  by  his  cousin, 
Mary  Todd  Russell,  which  she  had  conveyed  to  Wickliffe  short- 
ly after  her  marriage  to  him  in  1826.4  Todd  and  Wickliffe  had 
not  been  on  good  terms,  either  personally  or  politically,  for 
many  years,  and  this  litigation  had  aroused  the  deepest  enmity 
between  them.    Under  the  law  the  death  of  the  plaintiff  had 


178  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

abated  this  action,  and  no  further  steps  could  be  taken  without 
the  intervention  of  Todd's  heirs. 

However,  if  Wickliffe  cherished  a  hope,  as  there  is  reason 
to  believe  he  did,  that  the  children  of  his  deceased  adversary 
would  drop  the  case,  such  a  possibility  vanished  upon  the  filing 
of  a  bill  of  revivor  on  October  2,  1849,  in  behalf  of  "Abraham 
Lincoln  and  Mary  A.  Lincoln,  his  wife;  Ninian  W.  Edwards 
and  Elizabeth  P.  Edwards,  his  wife,"  and  the  other  heirs  of 
Robert  S.  Todd— "who  charge  as  in  the  original  &  cross  bills 
of  their  ancestor." 

It  is  apparent  from  the  record  that  Wickliffe  felt  greatly 
outraged  at  this  renewal  of  a  contest  which  he  thought  had 
terminated  at  the  grave  in  Boswell's  Woods.  And  the  answer 
which  he  filed  on  October  11  bore  unmistakable  evidence  of 
his  resentment.  Refusing  to  yield  an  inch  of  ground  in  the 
litigation,  Wickliffe  put  Lincoln  and  the  children  of  the  de- 
ceased plaintiff  strictly  upon  proof  as  to  every  material  allega- 
tion of  their  bill  of  revivor— even  as  to  their  relationship  to 
Robert  S.  Todd.  "Defendant  states,"  said  he,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  the  closest  intimacy  had  existed  for  years  between 
Todd's  first  children  and  the  members  of  his  own  family,  "that 
he  does  not  know  them  so  as  to  admit  or  deny  their  names  or 
relationship." 

His  specific  reference  to  Mary  Lincoln  and  her  husband 
was  even  more  startling.  Mary  Todd  had  been  the  intimate 
girlhood  companion  of  his  daughter  Margaret,  who  later  be- 
came Mrs.  William  Preston.5  They  had  practically  lived  in 
each  other's  homes  during  their  school  days,  were  roommates 
at  Mme.  Mentelle's,  and  had  kept  up  their  correspondence 
after  Mary's  marriage.  Even  as  recently  as  her  visit  to  Lexing- 
ton in  the  summer  of  1848  Mrs.  Lincoln,  regardless  of  her 
father's  quarrel  with  the  Old  Duke,  had  been  so  friendly  with 
the  Wickliffes  that  Lincoln  felt  it  necessary  to  caution  her  in 
one  of  his  letters  against  the  "danger  of  wounding  the  feelings" 
of  her  "good  father  by  being  openly  intimate  with  the  Wickliffe 
family."6   Robert  Wickliffe  therefore  knew  Mary  Todd  almost 


MILLY  AND  ALFRED  179 

as  well  as  he  knew  his  own  daughter,  yet  suspecting  no  doubt 
that  Lincoln,  as  the  lawyer  of  the  family,  was  responsible  for 
the  renewal  of  the  suit,  the  Old  Duke  with  grim  irony  wrote 
in  his  answer  that  Robert  S.  Todd  "did  have  a  daughter  he 
thinks  they  called  Mary  who  he  understands  married  a  member 
of  congress,  his  name  not  recollected." 

By  the  middle  of  October  the  lawsuit  in  the  Fayette  Circuit 
Court  and  business  affairs  connected  with  the  settlement  of 
the  Todd  estate  required  Lincoln's  presence  in  Kentucky,  and 
the  cholera  having  disappeared,  he  and  Mary  arrived  in  Lex- 
ington about  the  twentieth  for  a  visit  of  three  or  four  weeks.7 
It  is  evident  that  Lincoln  was  already  informed  in  a  general 
way  as  to  the  nature  of  the  Wickliffe  suit  in  which  he  had  lately 
intervened.  However,  there  is  no  indication  that  he  knew  much 
about  the  details  of  the  case,  or  what  the  actual  facts  were, 
until  he  came  to  Lexington,  read  the  record,  and  talked  with 
Robert  J.  Breckinridge  and  other  close  friends  of  Robert  S. 
Todd.  It  was  then  that  he  found  a  tragic,  sordid  story  inter- 
woven with  the  pending  litigation. 

When  Colonel  John  Todd  marched  away  with  his  regiment 
in  August,  1782,  to  engage  Simon  Girty's  besiegers  at  Bryan's 
Station,  he  left  a  wife,  Jane  Todd,  and  an  infant  daughter, 
Mary  Owen  Todd,  in  the  fort  at  Lexington.  A  few  days  later, 
upon  his  death  at  the  Battle  of  Blue  Licks,  his  young  daughter 
fell  heir  to  all  of  her  father's  vast  landholdings  in  Kentucky. 
Mrs.  Todd  later  became  the  wife  of  Thomas  Irvine.  At  about 
the  age  of  seventeen  Mary  Owen  Todd  married  Colonel  James 
Russell,  who  died  in  1802,  leaving  an  only  son  two  years  old 
bearing  the  name  of  his  illustrious  maternal  grandfather. 

The  young  Widow  Russell  was  probably  the  wealthiest 
woman  in  all  Kentucky.  She  owned  nearly  two  thousand  acres 
of  the  finest  land  in  the  Bluegrass,  most  of  it  adjoining  the 
town  of  Lexington.  In  a  fine  old  colonial  mansion,  surrounded 
by  many  slaves,  she  lived  in  the  most  elegant  style.  Her  son, 
John  Todd  Russell,  was  his  mother's  fondest  hope— a  youth 


180  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

of  rare  charm  and  striking  personal  appearance,  over  six  feet 
in  height,  unassuming,  generous,  amiable,  a  favorite  among 
old  and  young. 

By  the  early  summer  of  1816  the  boy  had  completed  his 
preparatory  training  for  Princeton,  and  while  waiting  for  col- 
lege to  open  in  the  fall,  spent  several  months  at  the  home  of 
his  grandmother,  Mrs.  Irvine,  who  was  just  recovering  from  a 
long  and  serious  illness.  Here,  so  the  story  went,  he  met  Milly, 
a  comely  octoroon  slave  about  fifteen  years  old,  who  was  the 
joint  property  of  Mrs.  Irvine  and  her  brother.  The  girl  had 
been  educated  and  carefully  reared  as  a  house  servant  and,  as 
it  is  said,  was  "a  young  woman  of  refined  manners,  who  bore 
little  evidence  of  her  Ethiopian  blood." 

Thrown  constantly  in  each  other's  company,  young  Russell 
and  Milly  developed  a  secret  but  ardent  attachment  which 
continued  through  the  summer.  Then  autumn  came,  and  Rus- 
sell left  for  Princeton,  while  Milly  remained  in  the  Irvine 
household.  During  the  months  that  followed,  she  tenderly 
nursed  her  convalescent  mistress  until  the  spring  of  1817,  when 
she  became  the  mother  of  a  fine,  sturdy  boy  "as  fair  in  com- 
plexion as  any  white  child  in  Kentucky." 

At  the  end  of  two  years  young  Russell  came  back  to  Lex- 
ington but  never  returned  to  college.  Three  years  later,  while 
on  his  way  home  from  a  journey  to  Gallatin  County,  he  was 
seized  with  a  sudden  and  violent  illness  at  Shelbyville.  Realiz- 
ing that  the  end  was  near,  he  acknowledged  Milly's  boy  Alfred 
to  be  his  son,  "thought  of  him  in  the  last  throbs  of  life  and 
did  what  he  considered  necessary  to  insure  the  freedom  and 
respectability  of  the  child."  Then,  on  October  12,  1822,  John 
Todd  Russell  died,8  "an  only  son,  the  chief  and  earthly  hope 
of  a  mother." 

Soon  after  his  death  the  Widow  Russell  quietly  undertook 
to  purchase  Milly  and  Alfred,  but  her  uncle,  who  owned  a 
part  interest  in  them,  had  become  financially  involved,  and 
his  creditors,  as  Robert  Wickliffe  said,   "extorted"   from  her 


MILLY  AND  ALFRED  181 

"the  enormous  sum  of  twelve  hundred  dollars  for  Milly  and 
her  boy  child."  And  so  the  octoroon  girl  and  Alfred  passed 
into  the  hands  of  Widow  Russell  and  came  to  live  in  her  ele- 
gant home.  The  boy  was  described  as  a  "bright,  lovely,  well- 
behaved  lad  who,  though  held  in  nominal  bondage,  was  treated 
as  the  child  of  a  friend  rather  than  as  a  slave  and  who,  though 
illegitimate,  was  yet  the  acknowledged  son  of  the  unquestioned 
heir-male  of  these  great  estates." 

Thus  matters  stood  on  October  12,  1826,  when  the  Widow 
Russell  married  Robert  Wickliffe,  himself  one  of  the  wealthiest 
men  in  Kentucky  and  a  widower  with  seven  small  children. 
Several  months  later,  according  to  the  allegations  of  Todd's 
bill  of  complaint,  Mrs.  Wickliffe  began  preparations  to  set 
Milly  and  Alfred  free  and  send  them  to  Liberia,  when  she 
discovered  "to  her  horror"  that  under  the  marriage  laws  of 
Kentucky  they  and  all  her  other  slaves  had  become  the  sole 
property  of  her  husband,  who  refused  to  emancipate  them 
unless  she  conveyed  to  him  her  entire  estate,  valued  at  some- 
thing like  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars.  Finding  that  "she 
had  made  her  own  grandchild  his  slave,  Wickliffe,  as  the  price 
of  his  liberation,  extorted  from  her  a  conveyance  of  all  her 
property,"  and  the  deeds  therefore  were  duly  executed  by  her 
on  September  12,  1827.  Having  liberated  her  grandson  at  such 
tremendous  sacrifice,  Mrs.  Wickliffe  hurried  Alfred  and  Milly 
off  to  Liberia,  where  "the  last  reputed  descendant  of  John 
Todd,  if  he  still  lives,  is  in  poverty  on  the  barbarous  shores  of 
Africa." 

The  bill  of  complaint  closed  with  the  allegations  that  no 
children  had  been  born  to  Mrs.  Wickliffe  by  her  last  marriage 
and  that  "the  wife  of  the  defendant  is  now  dead  and  a  short 
time  before  her  death  she  frequently  requested  the  said  Robert 
Wickliffe  to  reconvey  her  estate  to  her  which  he  refused  to  do," 
and  asked  the  court  to  adjudge  that  all  of  the  property  which 
had  been  received  by  him  from  his  wife  should  be  restored  to 
her  own  blood  kin. 


182  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

While  the  Lincolns  were  on  their  way  to  Lexington,  Robert 
Wickliffe  had  filed  a  voluminous,  forty-page  answer  to  the 
statements  of  the  complaint  and  to  Lincoln's  revivor.  He  ve- 
hemently denied  that  his  wife  had  conveyed  her  property  to 
him  under  duress  or  coercion  and  that  there  had  been  any 
motive  for  it  except  "love  and  affection."  He  stated  that  Rob- 
ert S.  Todd  had  managed  the  estate  of  his  cousin,  Mrs.  Wick- 
liffe, prior  to  her  marriage  to  the  defendant;  that  Todd  had 
expected  to  be  the  beneficiary  of  her  will  at  her  death,  which 
hope  was  frustrated  by  her  marriage;  that  since  Todd  had 
learned  of  the  "Marriage  settlement,"  the  defendant  "had  ex- 
perienced nothing  from  him  but  a  sullen  and  ill-will  conduct"; 
that  "the  said  Robert  S.  Todd  cherished  undying  hatred  against 
this  defendant,  believing  that  but  for  him  the  estate  sued  for 
would  have  been  secured  to  him";  and  finally  that  Todd  had 
circulated  the  story  that  by  marrying  Wickliffe,  his  cousin  "had 
made  her  own  grandchild  his  slave,"  and  that  her  husband 
"had  extorted  from  her  a  deed  of  all  her  property  to  rescue  the 
boy  Alfred,  the  child  of  her  deceased  son,  from  defendant's 
ownership." 

Wickliffe  did  not  deny  that  young  Russell  was  the  father 
of  Milly's  son,  but  he  declared  "that  the  story  of  the  boy  Alfred, 
whether  true  or  false,  was  promulgated  to  ruin  the  peace  and 
happiness  of  his  wife,"  that  the  publicity  given  to  this  "old 
and  long  forgotten  tale"  distressed  Mrs.  Wickliffe  greatly,  and 
that  "with  this  malignant  shaft  in  the  bruised  heart  of  the 
victim,  his  wife  sunk  into  an  untimely  grave."9 

Wickliffe  stoutly  denied  that  Milly  and  Alfred  had  been 
sent  to  Liberia  in  poverty,  but  alleged  that  "defendant  allowed 
his  wife  to  take  whatever  money  of  his  these  slaves  needed  for 
their  transportation  which  was  some  several  hundred  dollars, 
the  exact  amount  he  does  not  know,  nor  does  he  care,  and  he 
repeatedly  gave  his  wife  money  to  send  them  after  they  left." 
As  for  Alfred,  Wickliffe  said:  "He  is  now,  I  am  informed,  a 
respectable  Methodist  divine,  and  a  perfect  gentleman  in  his 
manners.  When  Monrovia,  the  capital  of  Liberia,  was  attacked, 


MILLY  AND  ALFRED  183 

he  stood  the  powder  and  shot  of  the  enemy  and  fought  in  her 
defense  most  bravely."10 

The  case  of  Todd's  heirs  v.  Robert  Wickliffe  progressed 
rapidly  after  Lincoln  arrived  in  Lexington.  But  as  he  sat  in 
Judge  Robertson's  stuffy  little  office  on  Jordan's  Row  while 
depositions  were  being  taken,  he  must  have  realized  that  the 
complainants  had  only  a  remote  chance  of  winning  the  suit. 
Witness  after  witness,  including  Mary  Lincoln's  old  French 
teacher,  the  infirm,  palsied,  beloved  Mine.  Victorie  Charlotte 
Mentelle,  testified  that  Robert  Wickliffe,  in  spite  of  an  irascible 
disposition,  had  been  a  most  exemplary  husband,  that  he  and 
Mary  Todd  Wickliffe  were  devoted  to  each  other,  and  that 
Mrs.  Wickliffe  in  her  last  years  and  on  her  deathbed  repeatedly 
expressed  her  complete  satisfaction  with  the  transaction  which 
had  given  her  husband  absolute  title  to  all  her  property. 

As  the  taking  of  proof  went  on  and  it  became  apparent 
that  the  charge  of  coercion  could  not  be  sustained,  Todd's 
heirs  switched  their  line  of  attack  and  began  the  introduction 
of  testimony  to  the  effect  that  John  Todd,  before  leaving  for 
the  battlefield  of  Blue  Licks,  had  made  a  will  devising  all  of 
his  property  to  his  daughter  for  life  only  and,  at  her  death,  to 
"his  brothers  and  companions  in  peril,"  or  to  their  children. 
This  will,  according  to  Lincoln  and  his  coplaintiffs,  had  been 
destroyed  when  the  clerk's  office  burned  in  1803,  and  witnesses, 
including  the  Reverend  Robert  Stuart,  father  of  Lincoln's  first 
law  partner,  John  T.  Stuart,  and  Mary's  grandmother,  the 
venerable  Elizabeth  Parker,  were  introduced  to  prove  the  con- 
tents of  that  document. 

However,  the  three  weeks  that  Lincoln  spent  in  Lexington 
on  this  trip  were  not  all  devoted  to  business  and  litigation.  As 
in  1847,  there  was  much  opportunity  for  visiting  among  kins- 
folk and  friends.  The  Widow  Todd  and  Mary's  young  half 
brothers  and  sisters  were  at  "Buena  Vista,"  and  the  Lincolns 
visited  them  there,  riding  back  and  forth  to  Lexington  on  the 
steam  cars.    Henry  Clay,  again  United  States  senator-elect,  did 


184  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

not  leave  home  for  Washington  until  November  1,  and  if 
Mary  took  her  husband  to  visit  her  friend  at  ' 'Ashland,"  he 
no  doubt  heard  much  concerning  the  defeat  of  gradual  eman- 
cipation in  the  recent  election. 

Denton  Offutt  had  left  for  the  West  only  a  few  days  before 
Lincoln's  arrival,  taking  with  him  the  following  recommenda- 
tion from  an  old  friend: 

Ashland,  October  27,  1849 

The  bearer  hereof,  Mr.  Denton  Offutt  of  Kentucky,  being  about 
to  travel  in  other  parts  of  the  U.  States  and  perhaps  in  Europe,  I 
take  great  pleasure  in  recommending  him  as  a  person  who  possesses 
uncommon  skill  in  the  treatment  of  horses  and  domestic  animals, 
especially  in  training,  breaking  and  curing  them  of  diseases.  Such 
is  the  extraordinary  effect  of  his  system  in  the  management  of  the 
horse,  that  he  will,  in  a  very  short  time,  render  the  wildest  animal 
gentle  and  docile,  in  so  much  that  he  will  subject  it  to  his  easy  con- 
trol and  direction.  Mr.  Offutt  has  been  many  years  engaged  in  the 
study  and  practice  of  his  remarkable  method  of  dealing  with  the 
horse  and  has  many  and  satisfactory  evidences  of  his  great  success. 

Henry  Clay. 

At  the  same  time  Offutt  also  obtained  a  letter  from  Lex- 
ington's distinguished  surgeon,  Dr.  Benjamin  Dudley  of  the 
Transylvania  medical  faculty,  stating  that  "from  personal  ob- 
servation" he  could  "testify"  not  only  as  to  Offutt's  remarkable 
ability  in  quickly  taming  horses  so  that  they  "were  perfectly 
safe,"  but  his  "even  greater  promptitude"  in  deciding  "on  the 
mode  of  training  the  horse  according  to  his  endowments."  Dr. 
Dudley  felt  "authorized  to  commend  Mr.  Offutt  to  the  entire 
confidence  of  all  who  were  interested  in  the  subject."11 

There  were  those  who  thought  a  term  in  Congress  had  im- 
proved Lincoln's  personal  appearance.  Wearing  a  black  frock 
coat  and  pantaloons  of  broadcloth,  satin  vest,  black  cravat  of 
the  choker  style,  and  a  tall,  moleskin  hat,  with  a  short,  circular 
blue  cloak,  the  Springfield  lawyer  did  not  suffer  in  comparison 
with  the  best-dressed  members  of  the  Lexington  bar.12 


MILLY  AND  ALFRED  185 

Bluegrass  hemp  growers  had  nominated  Mary's  uncle,  Dr. 
John  T.  Parker,  for  hemp  agent  of  the  state  of  Kentucky,  and 
the  Illinois  politician  on  November  5  wrote  the  secretary  of 
the  navy  a  warm  endorsement  of  Dr.  Parker.  "I  personally 
know  him  to  be  a  gentleman  of  high  character,  of  excellent 
general  information,  and,  withal,  an  experienced  hemp  grower 
himself,"  wrote  Lincoln;  "I  shall  be  much  gratified,  if  Dr. 
Parker  shall  receive  the  appointment."13 

Mrs.  Lincoln's  brother  Levi,  the  city  treasurer,  now  lived 
in  the  old  Todd  home  at  the  corner  of  Short  Street  and  Me- 
chanics Alley.14  Here,  and  with  "Grandma"  Parker  next  door, 
the  Lincolns  spent  more  time,  perhaps,  than  anywhere  else.15 
And  here  Abraham  Lincoln  was  again  a  witness  to  the  utter 
degradation  and  misery  of  that  institution  which  had  given 
him  so  much  concern  in  recent  months. 

While  in  Congress,  he  had  been  interested  in  a  bill  to  abol- 
ish slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia  and,  as  he  said,  had 
voted  for  the  Wilmot  Proviso,  prohibiting  slavery  in  Texas, 
"as  good  as  forty  times."  Then,  upon  the  heels  of  the  emanci- 
pation slaughter  at  the  polls  in  Kentucky,  Lincoln  had  arrived 
in  Lexington  to  be  confronted  by  the  shocking  disclosure  that 
a  cousin  by  marriage,  a  kinsman  of  his  own  wife,  had  been  a 
slave,  with  the  taint  of  Negro  blood  beneath  a  Caucasian  skin, 
and  was  now  an  exile  upon  the  "barbarous  shores  of  Africa."16 

The  slave  coops  in  the  yard  of  Pullum's  jail  along  Me- 
chanics Alley  were  still  plainly  visible  from  the  Parker  and 
Todd  residences.17  The  Pullum  property  was  now  under  lease 
to  Lewis  C.  Robards,  the  leading  "Negro  buyer,"  who  had  also 
acquired  the  old  Lexington  Theater,  which  stood  on  Short 
Street  directly  across  the  street  from  Levi  Todd  and  Mrs. 
Parker.  This  latter  establishment  under  Robards'  able  man- 
agement was  now  a  busy  and  quite  select  slave  market.18 

The  rear  of  the  theater  property  was  fenced  in  by  a  high 
stone  wall,  and  Negroes  were  confined  within  this  enclosure 
while  waiting  their  turn  on  the  auction  block  inside.  The 
stage  had  been  left  just  as  it  stood  when  the  building  was  a 


186  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

playhouse,  and  now  men,  women,  and  children  were  paraded 
up  and  down  and  put  through  their  paces  under  the  scrutiniz- 
ing gaze  of  Negro  traders  from  various  parts  of  the  Deep  South. 

On  the  ground  floor  of  a  commodious  two-story  brick  house 
adjoining  the  old  theater,  Robards  had  his  office,  a  large  bare 
room  with  a  desk  in  one  end,  the  inevitable  liquor  bar  along 
one  side,  and  several  tables  and  chairs  in  the  center.  Slave 
drivers,  catchers,  and  traders  found  this  a  convenient  place  to 
loaf,  "talk  shop"  over  ale  and  brandy,  and  play  cards. 

In  the  comfortable,  well-ventilated,  and  amply  furnished 
apartments  upstairs  over  the  office,  Robards  kept  what  he,  with 
a  significant  wink  and  smile,  called  his  "choice  stock."  The 
interior  as  it  appeared  to  Lincoln  in  1849  was  no  doubt  sub- 
stantially the  same  as  when  one  of  his  dearest  friends,  Orville 
H.  Browning,  saw  it  four  years  later.  "After  dinner  visited  a 
negro  jail,"  wrote  Browning  in  his  diary.  "Tis  a  place  where 
negroes  are  kept  for  sale— Outer  doors  &  windows  all  protected 
with  iron  grates,  but  inside  the  appointments  are  not  only 
comfortable,  but  in  many  respects  luxurious.  Many  of  the 
rooms  are  well  carpeted  &  furnished,  &  very  neat,  and  the 
inmates  whilst  here  are  treated  with  great  indulgence  &  hu- 
manity, but  I  confess  it  impressed  me  with  the  idea  of  decorat- 
ing the  ox  for  the  sacrifice.  In  several  of  the  rooms  I  found 
very  handsome  mulatto  women,  of  fine  persons  and  easy  genteel 
manners,  sitting  at  their  needle  work  awaiting  a  purchaser. 
The  proprietor  made  them  get  up  &  turn  round  to  show  to 
advantage  their  finely  developed  &  graceful  forms— and  slaves 
as  they  were  this  I  confess  rather  shocked  my  gallantry.  I  en- 
quired the  price  of  one  girl  which  was  $1600."19 

Robards'  "choice  stock,"  according  to  his  own  testimony, 
was  famous  among  "discriminating"  buyers  throughout  the 
South.  It  was  their  custom  to  visit  the  "luxurious"  apartments 
of  which  Senator  Browning  spoke,  select  a  half  dozen  or  more 
of  the  most  beautiful  quadroon  and  octoroon  girls,  and  then 
take  them  to  the  "inspection"  room  in  the  ell  of  the  house, 


Megowan  slave  jail.   From  original  in  Mulligan  Collection 


Where  Robards  kept  his  "choice  stock, 
Photograph  taken  by  the  author 


AS   IT   LOOKED   BEFORE   IT   WAS   RAZED 


MILLY  AND  ALFRED  187 

where  they  were  stripped  to  the  skin  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
firming Robards'  "warranty  of  soundness."20 

Robards  was  the  shrewdest,  most  enterprising,  and  un- 
scrupulous of  all  the  "Negro  buyers"  in  Kentucky.  In  the 
autumn  of  1849  he  was  at  the  height  of  his  prosperity.  He 
carried  a  standing  advertisement  in  the  Observer  that  he  was 
in  the  market  to  "purchase  a  large  lot  of  merchantable  negroes 
for  which  I  will  pay  the  highest  cash  market-price."21  The 
repeal  of  the  Nonimportation  Act  the  previous  spring  had 
opened  wide  the  gates  of  opportunity,  and  Robards  was  making 
the  most  of  it.  It  was  charged  in  litigation,  and  not  denied, 
that  he  was  "regularly  engaged  in  the  slave  traffic,  buying  and 
selling  slaves  and  sending  them  out  of  the  state  into  the  South- 
ern slave  states,"  and  that  "his  jail  is  the  rendezvous  for  a  gang 
of  kidnappers  that  operate  along  the  Ohio  River  seizing  free 
negroes  who  live  in  the  extreme  southern  border  of  the  state 
of  Ohio  and  sending  them  to  Robards  in  Lexington."22 

At  the  Pullum  jail  on  Broadway,  Robards  kept  the  common 
run  of  his  slaves,  herding  men  and  women  promiscuously  into 
the  crowded  slave  coops,  and  its  squalor  and  wretchedness  were 
painfully  apparent  to  Lincoln  as  it  stood  under  his  very  eyes 
day  after  day.  There  were  little  children  as  well  as  adults  in 
those  fetid  pens.  Martha,  five  years  old  and  free,  had  lived  with 
her  aged  uncle  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio  River  near  Portsmouth, 
until  one  night  a  marauding  band  of  white  "nigger  thieves" 
broke  open  the  door  with  an  ax,  "grasping  the  wool  on  the  top 
of  her  old  uncle's  head,"  and  carried  the  little  girl  and  her 
six  small  brothers  and  sisters  away  into  captivity  to  Robards 
at  Lexington.23  There  was  also  Isva,  age  two,  suffering  from 
sores  on  her  head  and  the  "phthsick,"  and  "a  negro  girl  named 
Henrietta,  about  one  year  of  age,  of  black  complexion  and 
entirely  blind."24  At  this  particular  time  the  dungeon  was  filled 
with  advanced  cases  of  Negro  consumption. 

Lincoln  sadly  noted  the  changes  that  had  taken  place  in 
the  institution  of  slavery  around  Lexington  since  his  visit  of 


188  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

two  years  before.  It  too  had  felt  the  blighting  touch  of  the 
great  scourge.  Many  of  the  largest  slaveholders  had  been  sud- 
denly carried  away  by  the  cholera  without  time  to  make  a  will. 
Hundreds  of  slaves,  like  those  that  belonged  to  Robert  S.  Todd, 
who  would  never  have  been  sold  now  came  under  the  hammer 
of  the  auctioneer  to  settle  the  estates  of  their  deceased  owners, 
and  the  records  indicate  that  no  fewer  than  150  Negroes  went 
on  the  auction  block  during  the  three  weeks  of  Lincoln's  visit, 
while  scores  of  others  must  have  changed  hands  at  private  sales.25 

Lincoln,  who  was  far  less  tolerant  of  slavery  than  Browning, 
could  not  have  been  less  affected  by  these  scenes  than  was  his 
old  friend,  who  recorded  in  his  diary  that  upon  his  arrival  in 
Lexington  he  "saw  a  negro  man  sold  at  public  auction  in  the 
Court  House  yard.  .  .  .  Although  I  am  not  sensible  in  any 
change  in  my  views  upon  the  abstract  question  of  slavery," 
observed  Browning,  "many  of  its  features,  that  they  are  no 
longer  familiar,  make  a  much  more  vivid  impression  of  wrong 
than  they  did  before  I  had  lived  away  from  the  influence  of 
the  institution."26 

The  Kentucky  Negro  had  an  instinctive  dread  of  slavery  as 
it  existed  in  the  Deep  South.  Lurid  tales  of  horror  told  by  old 
scarred  slaves  throbbed  in  his  ears  from  his  earliest  recollection 
around  the  cabin  fireside.  The  threat  to  sell  him  "South"  had 
long  been  an  effective  method  of  correction,  and  now,  con- 
fronted by  the  hideous  reality,  he  was  terror-stricken  and  des- 
perate. Many  slaves  were  running  away;  others  were  prowling 
about  the  country,  committing  all  sorts  of  petty  misdemeanors 
and  occasionally  some  grave  offense.  The  watch  bell  rang  at 
seven  p.  mv  and  all  slaves  found  on  the  streets  after  that  hour 
were  subject  to  the  punishment  of  "35  lashes  well  laid  on  the 
bare  back."  Vigorous  floggings  at  "the  three- pronged  poplar 
tree  in  the  court-house  yard"  were  familiar  sights  to  those  who 
passed  along  the  public  square. 

The  situation  seemed  all  the  more  pathetic,  as  Lincoln  saw 
the  slave  power  daily  entrenching  itself  more  strongly  in  the 


MILLY  AND  ALFRED  189 

constitutional  convention  then  in  session  at  Frankfort.  The 
Todd  farm  was  only  five  miles  from  the  statehouse,  and  it  is 
more  than  probable  that  Lincoln  attended  some  of  the  sessions; 
certainly  he  kept  himself  fully  informed  of  all  the  proceedings. 
In  spite  of  the  fact  that  not  a  single  emancipation  delegate  had 
been  elected,  the  slavery  question  in  all  its  various  aspects  was 
receiving  more  discussion  than  any  other  subject.  ''For  two 
solid  weeks,"  complained  the  Observer,  "the  convention  has 
been  engaged  in  the  discussion  of  the  slavery  question,  with 
nearly  all  the  speeches  on  one  side.  For  what  end  is  all  this 
discussion?  The  patience  of  the  people  is  becoming  exhausted 
by  this  perpetual  speechifying."27 

By  the  time  Lincoln  was  ready  to  return  to  Springfield  it 
was  unmistakably  evident  that  the  convention  had  subordinated 
every  other  interest  of  the  state  to  the  perpetuation  of  slavery 
in  Kentucky.  A  motion  to  incorporate  the  Nonimportation 
Act  of  1833  was  decisively  tabled.  Even  the  ballot  system  of 
voting  was  rejected  on  the  ground  that  it  might  prove  injurious 
to  slave  interests.  The  convention  not  only  retained  the  clauses 
on  slavery  in  the  old  constitution,  but  new  and  far  more  drastic 
provisions  were  enacted.  No  person  could  voluntarily  emanci- 
pate his  slaves,  "except  on  condition  that  such  emancipated 
slaves  be  immediately  sent  out  of  the  state."  Free  Negroes 
were  forbidden  to  immigrate  to  Kentucky.  Then,  in  order  to 
settle  the  question  for  ever,  the  convention  wrote  into  the  bill 
of  rights  the  declaration:  "The  right  of  property  is  before  and 
higher  than  any  constitutional  sanction;  and  the  right  of  an 
owner  to  his  slave,  and  its  increase,  is  the  same  and  is  as  in- 
violable as  the  right  of  the  owner  to  any  property  whatever."28 

In  the  midst  of  these  activities  of  the  lawmakers  for  strip- 
ping the  Negro  of  every  human  attribute,  an  item  appeared 
in  the  Louisville  Courier,  which  came  regularly  to  the  Todd 
home,  ironically  illustrating  the  anomalous  position  of  the 
slave  in  Kentucky  despite  all  efforts  to  reduce  him  to  the  status 
of  a  mere  chattel. 


190  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

NEGRO    LAWYER   AT   AUCTION 

There  will  be  offered  to  the  highest  bidder  at  the  office  of  J.  S. 
Young,  on  5th  Street,  this  morning  at  9:00  o'clock— A  valuable 
yellow  man  supposed  to  have  his  blood  fully  half  mixed  with  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  stout  and  active  and  weighing  175  pounds.  A  very 
good  rough  lawyer;  very  healthy  and  title  good— said  negro  is  not 
fitted  to  practice  in  the  Court  of  Appeals,  or  in  the  Court  of  Chan- 
cery, but  take  him  in  a  common  law  case,  or  a  six-penny  trial  before 
a  County  Magistrate  and  "he  can't  be  beat."  Said  yellow  man  can 
also  take  depositions,  make  out  legal  writings,  and  is  thoroughly 
adept  at  brow-beating  witnesses  and  other  tricks  of  the  trade.29 

By  November  10  Lincoln  had  finished  his  business  in  Lex- 
ington, and  he  and  Mary  started  home.  Judge  George  Robert- 
son, local  counsel  for  the  Todd  heirs,  was  left  in  charge  of  the 
Wickliffe  case,  which  would  shortly  be  ready  for  final  submission 
to  the  court.30  It  was  agreed  with  Mrs.  Todd  that  a  suit  should 
be  brought  by  her  as  administratrix  for  the  purpose  of  settling 
the  estate  of  Robert  S.  Todd,  paying  off  debts,  and  dividing 
the  balance  as  required  by  law. 

On  this  visit  to  Kentucky,  Lincoln  had  definitely  obtained 
a  deeper  insight  into  the  problem  of  slavery  than  he  had  hither- 
to possessed.  Personal  contact  and  firsthand  observation  had 
given  him  a  grasp  of  the  situation  which  he  could  have  acquired 
in  no  other  way.  He  had  closely  watched  the  effect  of  anti- 
slavery  agitation  in  the  Bluegrass  region  of  his  native  state  since 
The  True  American  had  espoused  the  cause  of  gradual  eman- 
cipation. He  had  seen  the  freedom  of  the  press  quickly  over- 
thrown by  the  force  and  arms  of  a  popular  uprising.  He  had 
observed  the  strife  and  bitterness,  the  violence  and  bloodshed 
of  that  memorable  campaign  of  1849,  and  the  annihilation  of 
the  emancipation  forces  at  the  polls.  Slavery,  in  the  very  place 
where  it  was  said  to  be  most  benign,  had  left  etchings  on  his 
memory  never  to  be  erased— the  misery  of  crowded,  vermin- 
infested  slave  coops;  the  degradation  of  comely  octoroons  at 
their  needlework  in  Robards'  luxurious  apartments;  the  an- 
guish of  the  auction  block  on  Cheapside;  the  torture  of  the 


MILLY  AND  ALFRED  191 

whipping  post  in  the  courthouse  yard;  the  callous  indifference 
of  the  populace  to  the  unhappy  and  hopeless  situation  of  the 
bondman,  under  the  devout  conviction  that  the  institution  was 
authorized  and  sanctioned  by  Holy  Writ.  And  with  it  all,  the 
shadow  of  Alfred  lay  deep  in  Lincoln's  heart. 

From  his  experiences  and  observations  in  Kentucky,  Lin- 
coln must  have  been  convinced  of  two  principles  which  here- 
after guided  his  course  on  the  great  question  of  the  age: 

First:  That  antislavery  agitation  in  the  states  where  slavery 
already  existed  only  sank  it  deeper  into  the  vitals  of  the  body 
politic. 

Second:  That  if  the  spread  of  slavery  was  to  be  prevented, 
it  must  never  be  allowed  to  obtain  the  slightest  foothold  in  new 
territory,  because,  as  had  been  demonstrated  in  Kentucky,  once 
entrenched,  it  seemed  to  thrive  and  nourish  upon  opposition. 

A  few  months  after  Lincoln  had  returned  to  Springfield, 
he  and  John  T.  Stuart,  his  former  law  partner,  were  driving 
home  in  a  buggy  from  court  in  Tazewell  County.  As  they 
neared  the  village  of  Dillon,  they  began  discussing  the  political 
situation.  "As  we  were  coming  down  the  hill,"  says  Stuart, 
"I  said  'Lincoln,  the  time  is  coming  when  we  shall  have  to  be 
either  all  Abolitionists  or  Democrats.'  He  thought  a  moment 
and  then  answered  ruefully  and  emphatically,  'When  that  time 
comes  my  mind  is  made  up,  for  I  believe  the  slavery  question 
can  never  be  successfully  compromised.'  "31 


THIRTEEN 


The  Buried 
Years 


On  SATURDAY,  January  26,  1850,  the  Observer  announced 
the  death  of  Mary  Lincoln's  grandmother:  "At  her  residence 
in  this  city,  on  Monday  night  last,"  said  that  newspaper,  "Mrs. 
Elizabeth  R.  Parker  died  at  an  advanced  age.  Mrs.  Parker  was 
one  of  the  oldest  residents  of  our  city,  and  was  universally 
esteemed  and  beloved  by  all  who  knew  her  for  her  many  ex- 
cellent qualities.  She  was  an  exemplary  member  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  and  died  in  the  full  hope  of  the  Christian." 

Mrs.  Parker  was  in  feeble  health  when  the  Lincolns  were 
in  Lexington,  and  the  ordeal  of  testifying  in  the  Wickliffe  suit 
had  heavily  taxed  her  waning  strength.  She  had  outlived  her 
husband  fifty  years,  and  on  the  previous  Christmas  Eve,  realizing 
that  the  end  was  near,  she  had  written  her  will,  making  special 
provisions  for  her  slaves.  "Being  weak  in  body,  but  sound  in 
mind,"  she  said,  "it  is  my  earnest  wish  that  my  servants  Pru- 
dence, Ann  and  Cyrus  have  their  freedom  given  them,"  and 
she  provided  an  annuity  which  her  executor  should  "pay  over 
to  Prudence  as  long  as  she  may  live."1 


THE  BURIED   YEARS  193 

The  news  about  "Grandma"  Parker  found  the  Lincolns  in 
deep  anxiety  over  an  illness  in  their  own  family.  Four-year-old 
Eddie,  whose  name  had  appeared  so  frequently  in  the  corre- 
spondence between  Mary  and  her  husband  during  the  summer 
of  1848  and  who  had  wept  over  the  plight  of  the  homeless 
kitten  in  his  Grandmother  Todd's  kitchen  at  Lexington,  was 
desperately  ill  with  a  disease  that  baffled  the  attending  physi- 
cians. For  more  than  seven  endless  weeks  Mary  and  her  hus- 
band sat  beside  the  little  cot  in  the  upstairs  bedroom,  striving 
desperately  against  fate.  Then,  on  the  morning  of  February  1, 
as  drizzling  rain  dripped  from  the  wide  eaves  of  the  house  on 
Eighth  Street,  little  Eddie  died.2 

"As  you  make  no  mention  of  it,  I  suppose  you  had  not 
learned  that  we  lost  our  little  boy,"  wrote  Lincoln  sadly  to  his 
stepbrother  nearly  a  month  later.  "He  was  sick  fifty  two  days 
&  died  the  morning  of  the  first  day  of  this  month.  It  was  not 
our  first ,  but  our  second  child.    We  miss  him  very  much."3 

Shaken  and  disconsolate  in  their  first  great  sorrow,  seeking 
escape  from  surroundings  that  constantly  reminded  them  of 
their  little  son,  Mary  and  her  husband  took  advantage  of  busi- 
ness in  connection  with  the  settlement  of  the  Parker  estate  and 
came  back  to  Lexington  several  weeks  after  Eddie's  death.  It 
was  Lincoln's  first  visit  in  springtime,  and  now  he  saw  the 
Bluegrass  country  in  its  fairest  aspect.  Violets,  redbud,  and 
lilacs  were  blooming;  gentle  showers  had  washed  the  wood- 
lands fresh  and  green;  crystal  brooks  were  running  full  over 
moss-grown  riffles  through  the  meadows  toward  the  winding, 
forked  Elkhorn. 

But  Lincoln  was  in  no  mood  to  appreciate  the  artistry  of 
nature.  Try  as  he  might,  he  could  not  shake  off  the  gloom  that 
enshrouded  him.  Frequently  he  found  himself  pondering  the 
mystery  of  the  hereafter  and,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  the  improb- 
ability of  immortality.  During  his  early  manhood  at  New 
Salem  copies  of  Volney's  Ruins  and  Paine's  Age  of  Reason  had 
fallen  into  his  hands.    Profoundly  influenced  by  them,  he  had 


194  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

occasionally  argued  against  some  of  the  doctrines  of  Chris- 
tianity.4 After  he  went  to  Springfield  and  began  the  practice 
of  law,  these  problems  had  given  him  less  concern,  and  since 
entering  politics,  he  rarely  or  never  discussed  religion.  But 
now  in  the  shadow  of  bereavement  the  old  doubts  and  mis- 
givings rose  up  to  perplex  him  again. 

One  day  while  browsing  aimlessly  in  the  Todd  library, 
Lincoln  came  upon  a  thick  volume  of  364  pages  bound  in 
heavy  sheepskin  with  a  title  page  that  attracted  his  attention. 
It  read:  "The  Christian's  Defense,  Containing  a  fair  statement 
and  impartial  examination  of  the  leading  objections  urged  by 
infidels  against  the  antiquity,  genuineness,  creditability  and 
inspiration  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  enriched  by  copious  ex- 
tracts from  learned  authors."5  The  name  of  the  writer  caught 
his  eye.  He  was  Dr.  James  Smith,  formerly  of  Shelbyville,  Ken- 
tucky, now  pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  in  Spring- 
field, the  preacher  who  had  conducted  the  funeral  of  Lincoln's 
little  boy. 

Rather  curiously  he  began  reading  the  preface.  Like  Lin- 
coln, the  author  stated  that  he  had  been  called  a  deist  in  early 
life,  had  read  the  Age  of  Reason  and  Volney's  Ruins,  and  that 
"led  astray  by  the  sophisms  of  Volney  and  Paine,  without  de- 
manding proofs  or  seeking  objections,  he  jumped  at  the  con- 
clusion that  Religion  was  a  fraud  contrived  to  govern  mankind." 
As  he  read  on,  Lincoln  found  that  the  pugnacious  Scot  not 
only  denied  the  conclusions  of  Hume,  Volney,  Paine,  Taylor, 
and  other  noted  infidels,  but  boldly  and  effectively  returned 
their  fire  shot  for  shot.  In  short,  closely  knit  sentences,  he 
forcefully  argued  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible  and  "the  great 
miracle  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  Christianity,  the  resur- 
rection of  Jesus  Christ."  It  was  at  once  apparent  that  the 
author  possessed  a  tremendous  grasp  of  his  subject,  and  with  a 
growing  interest  Lincoln  was  reading  the  book  in  earnest  when 
family  difficulties  intervened.6 

The  Widow  Todd,  as  administratrix  of  Robert  S.  Todd's 
estate,  had  filed  an  action  in  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court  to  dis- 


THE  BURIED  YEARS  195 

solve  the  partnership  of  Oldham,  Todd  &  Company,  and  wind 
up  the  decedent's  affairs.  Dr.  George  Todd,  the  youngest  of 
the  first  children,  who  had  prevented  the  probate  of  the  will, 
now  consulted  Lincoln,  as  a  representative  of  the  Springfield 
heirs,  with  a  long  list  of  grievances  against  his  stepmother.7 
She  had,  according  to  Todd,  failed  to  list  among  the  assets  of 
the  estate  a  valuable  quantity  of  silverware  which  she  had 
"appropriated  to  her  own  use."  She  had  also  failed  to  give 
the  appraisers  certain  "slaves  and  other  livestock,"  and  had 
sold  one  of  the  slaves  without  accounting  for  the  money.  George 
complained  bitterly  of  Mrs.  Todd's  settled  hostility  and  charged 
that  he  had  been  compelled  to  leave  "his  father's  house  in  con- 
sequence of  the  malignant  &  continued  attempts  on  the  part 
of  his  stepmother  to  poison  the  mind  of  his  father  toward  him, 
and  that  Robert  S.  Todd,  mortified  that  his  last  child  by  his 
first  wife  should  be  obliged,  like  all  his  other  first  children, 
to  abandon  his  house  by  the  relentless  persecution  of  a  step- 
mother, agreed  to  pay  his  son's  medical  tuition  fee,  if  he  would 
return  home,  which  he  did."  George  insisted  that  his  sisters, 
Elizabeth  Edwards,  Frances  Wallace,  Mary  Lincoln,  and  Ann 
Smith,  should  join  him  in  a  suit  against  Mrs.  Todd  to  compel 
restitution  of  the  property. 

To  this  recital  of  grievances  Lincoln  replied  that  he  under- 
stood that  the  silverware  had  been  given  to  Mrs.  Todd  as 
Christmas  presents  by  her  husband,  who  had  caused  her  initials 
to  be  engraved  on  the  various  pieces;  that  the  slaves  which 
she  had  not  listed  in  her  inventory  were  received  from  her 
mother  under  an  arrangement  which  provided  for  their  ulti- 
mate emancipation  and  had  never  belonged  to  Robert  S.  Todd; 
that  Mrs.  Todd  had  retained  no  property  belonging  to  the 
estate  except  that  to  which  she  was  entitled  as  dower.  He  fur- 
ther informed  his  brother-in-law  that  he  had  investigated  the 
sale  of  the  slave  and  had  found  that  Robert  S.  Todd  at  the 
time  of  his  death  owned  a  Negro  named  Bill  who  was  unruly 
and  was  then  confined  in  one  of  Robards'  jails  in  Lexington, 
that  Todd  had  requested  on  his  deathbed  that  this  slave  be 


196  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

sold,  which  was  done,  and  the  proceeds  applied  to  the  payment 
of  a  debt  he  owed  at  the  bank. 

Lincoln  strongly  advised  his  impetuous  relative  against  such 
a  suit  and  declined  to  allow  any  of  the  other  heirs  to  partici- 
pate. He  pointed  out  that  the  widow  with  her  small  children 
and  the  settlement  of  a  complicated  estate  on  her  hands  already 
bore  a  heavy  burden.  But  instead  of  taking  the  advice  of  his 
brother-in-law,  and  indignant  at  his  attitude,  George  filed  a 
bill  of  complaint,  making  Lincoln  and  all  the  other  first  chil- 
dren defendants,  which,  though  vigorously  prosecuted,  was,  as 
predicted,  without  avail. 

Settlement  of  the  Parker  estate,  the  chief  reason  for  Lin- 
coln's present  trip  to  Lexington,  next  demanded  his  attention. 
Mary's  grandfather,  Robert  Parker,  had  left  his  property  by 
will  to  his  wife  Elizabeth  for  life,  with  remainder  to  her  chil- 
dren. Now  that  she  was  dead,  the  heirs  of  Eliza  Parker  Todd 
were  entitled  to  their  share  of  the  estate.  After  a  consultation 
among  all  the  heirs,  it  was  agreed  that  a  partition  suit  should 
be  brought  in  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court  to  divide  the  con- 
siderable real  estate  holdings  in  the  city  of  Lexington.8 

Business  finished,  Lincoln  took  his  departure  several  days 
later,  leaving  Mary  and  their  son  Robert  for  a  more  extensive 
visit  with  Mrs.  Todd  at  "Buena  Vista."  He  had  not  been  able 
to  finish  The  Christian's  Defense  while  at  Lexington,  but  he 
had  read  enough  to  make  him  seek  an  interview  with  Dr.  Smith 
upon  his  return  to  Springfield.  Thomas  Lewis,  whose  law 
office  adjoined  Lincoln's,  was  an  elder  in  Dr.  Smith's  church, 
and  Lewis  introduced  him  to  the  author  of  The  Christian's 
Defense ,  who  afterward  said  of  that  interview:  "I  found  him 
much  depressed  and  downcast  at  the  death  of  his  son  and  with- 
out the  consolation  of  the  Gospel."  Following  his  talk  with 
the  minister,  Lincoln  borrowed  the  author's  own  copy  of  the 
book,  and  thereafter  rented  a  pew  in  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church,  which  he  kept  as  long  as  he  lived  in  Springfield.  Un- 
doubtedly Smith's  book  had  a  permanent  influence  on  the 
religious  views  of  Abraham  Lincoln.9 


THE  BURIED   YEARS  197 

Throughout  the  spring  and  summer  of  1850  Lincoln  fol- 
lowed with  grave  interest  the  stirring  events  then  going  on  in 
Congress.10  The  old  slavery  volcano  was  again  in  eruption, 
and  the  Senate  was  swept  by  fiery  debates.  California  had  ap- 
plied for  admission  to  the  Union  as  a  free  state;  New  Mexico 
and  Utah  were  ready  to  organize  into  territories.  The  South 
was  determined  that  the  power  of  the  free  states  should  not  be 
increased,  and  threats  of  disunion  were  loud  and  violent.  In 
the  midst  of  all  the  clamor  and  excitement  the  venerable  Sage 
of  Ashland  was  the  central  figure  above  the  footlights  in  the 
last  great  drama  of  his  long  and  brilliant  career. 

Summoned  by  Kentucky  from  retirement  at  Lexington,  Clay 
gathered  his  failing  strength  for  a  final  effort  to  save  his  dis- 
tracted country.  Lincoln  had  been  in  Lexington  on  the  very 
day  that  the  aged  statesman  climbed  feebly  into  his  carriage 
and  started  eastward  to  meet  the  impending  crisis.  Eagerly 
the  former  congressman  read  all  the  speeches  that  appeared  in 
the  newspapers.  He  was  gathering  knowledge  and  forming 
convictions  which  would  set  his  course  and  nerve  his  arm  in 
the  tragic  days  of  the  future.11  The  Lexington  press  devoted 
many  columns  to  the  activities  of  the  man  whose  policies,  ex- 
cept on  the  slavery  question,  it  had  supported  with  unswerving 
devotion  for  more  than  forty  years. 

The  compromise  measures  presented  by  Clay  provoked  furi- 
ous discussion,  and  Jefferson  Davis  with  other  southern  senators 
denounced  them  in  contemptuous  terms.  But  the  silvery-haired 
gladiator  stood  his  ground,  parried  their  thrusts,  and  delivered 
mighty  blows  in  return.  When  Barnwell  of  South  Carolina 
rose  and  criticized  the  senator  from  Kentucky  for  denouncing 
a  secession  speech  made  by  Rhett  at  a  public  meeting  in  Charles- 
ton, intimating  that  the  opinions  of  the  speaker  might  be  those 
of  South  Carolina  herself,  Clay  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant. 

"Mr.  President,"  he  replied,  "I  said  nothing  with  respect 
to  the  character  of  Mr.  Rhett.  I  know  him  personally  and 
have  some  respect  for  him.  But,  if  he  pronounced  the  senti- 
ments attributed  to  him  of  raising  the  standard  of  disunion 


198  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

and  of  resistance  to  the  common  government,  whatever  he  has 
been,  if  he  follows  up  that  declaration  by  corresponding  overt 
acts"— the  old  man's  fingers  clenched  and  he  turned  his  flashing 
eyes  upon  the  South  Carolina  senator— "he  will  be  a  traitor 
and  I  hope  he  will  meet  the  fate  of  a  traitor."12 

Wearily  the  debates  dragged  along  through  the  month  of 
June  into  hot,  sultry  days  of  midsummer.  Then  on  a  morning 
late  in  July  all  the  corridors  leading  to  the  Senate  chamber 
were  thronged  with  an  eager  crowd  that  vainly  sought  access 
to  the  galleries  already  packed  with  a  perspiring,  restless  mass 
of  humanity.  The  House  of  Representatives  was  deserted.  Its 
members  were  jammed  in  the  aisles  and  behind  the  last  row 
of  desks  on  the  Senate  floor. 

The  gay  bonnets  and  brilliant  gowns  of  the  ladies  in  the 
audience  gave  a  picturesque  embellishment  to  the  occasion. 
The  scene  was  reminiscent  of  other  years  when  Calhoun,  Clay, 
and  Webster— young,  ambitious,  and  in  the  full  vigor  of  man- 
hood—stood on  the  very  pinnacle  of  their  glory,  but  today  the 
great  triumvirate  was  broken.  Exhausted  by  his  desperate  ef- 
forts in  behalf  of  a  doomed  cause,  Calhoun  had  been  three 
months  in  his  grave,  where  his  two  aged  colleagues,  who  had 
carried  his  wasted  body  to  its  last  resting  place,  were  soon  to 
follow  him. 

Over  near  the  chair  of  the  Vice-President  sat  Webster.  Time 
had  bleached  and  thinned  his  once  dark,  heavy  hair.  The 
weight  of  years  had  bent  his  massive  frame;  the  luster  had 
vanished  from  those  deep-set  eyes  that  now  gazed  so  dreamily, 
so  retrospectively,  from  beneath  his  somber,  overhanging  brow. 
At  his  desk  near  the  center  aisle  sat  Henry  Clay,  the  oldest  of 
the  immortal  three.  Gaunt,  haggard,  worn  out  by  the  long 
struggle,  he  spasmodically  clutched  his  sunken  chest  in  an  effort 
to  stifle  the  hollow  cough  that  racked  him  night  and  day. 

Then,  as  the  gavel  of  the  Vice-President  fell,  the  old  man 
feebly  rose  to  his  feet  in  the  midst  of  thunderous  applause  and, 
with  every  eye  upon  him,  slowly  addressed  the  chair.  At  the 
beginning  his  voice   faltered  badly,   and   the   spectators  bent 


THE  BURIED  YEARS  199 

forward  with  hands  cupped  about  their  ears  to  catch  the  indis- 
tinct words  that  came  from  his  tremulous  lips.  But  as  he  pro- 
ceeded, his  strength  gradually  returned;  the  loud  rasping  cough 
grew  fainter  and  ceased;  the  tall  form  straightened  to  full 
height;  the  infirmities  of  age  seemed  to  disappear— gallant  Harry 
of  the  West,  with  sonorous  accents  and  irresistible  charm  of 
manner,  stood  once  more  in  the  forum.13  In  tones  of  deepest 
pathos  the  senator  from  Kentucky  pleaded  for  the  preservation 
of  the  Union.  With  sweeping  gestures  he  hurled  defiance  at 
those  who  would  take  the  nation's  life: 

Mr.  President,  I  have  said  that  I  want  to  know  whether  we  are 
bound  together  by  a  rope  of  sand  or  an  effective  capable  govern- 
ment competent  to  enforce  the  powers  therein  vested  by  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States.  And  what  is  this  doctrine  of  Nulli- 
fication, set  up  again,  revived,  resuscitated,  neither  enlarged  nor 
improved,  nor  expanded  in  this  new  edition  of  it,  that  when  a 
single  state  shall  undertake  to  say  that  a  law  passed  by  the  twenty- 
nine  states  is  unconstitutional  and  void,  she  may  raise  the  standards 
of  resistance  and  defy  the  twenty-nine.  Sir,  I  denied  that  doctrine 
twenty  years  ago— I  deny  it  now— I  will  die  denying  it.  There  is 
no  such  principle.  .  .  . 

The  Honorable  Senator  speaks  of  Virginia  being  my  country. 
This  Union  is  my  country.  The  thirty  states  is  my  country.  Ken- 
tucky is  my  country.  And  Virginia  no  more  than  any  of  the  other 
states  of  this  Union.  She  has  created  on  my  part  obligations  and 
feelings  and  duties  toward  her  in  my  private  character  which  noth- 
ing upon  earth  could  induce  me  to  forfeit  or  violate.  But  even  if  it 
were  my  own  state— if  my  own  state,  contrary  to  her  duty,  should 
raise  the  standard  of  disunion  against  the  residue  of  the  Union,  I 
would  go  against  her,  I  would  go  against  Kentucky  in  that  con- 
tingency as  much  as  I  love  her. 

The  galleries  broke  out  in  a  storm  of  applause,  and  as  order 
was  restored,  Mr.  Clay  proceeded: 

Nor  am  I  to  be  alarmed  or  dissuaded  from  any  such  course  by 
intimations  of  the  spilling  of  blood.  If  blood  is  to  be  spilt  by  whose 
fault  is  it  to  be  spilt?    Upon  the  supposition,  I  maintain  it  would 


200  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

be  the  fault  of  those  who  raised  the  standard  of  disunion  and  en- 
deavored to  prostrate  this  government,  and,  Sir,  when  that  is  done, 
as  long  as  it  please  God  to  give  me  voice  to  express  my  sentiments, 
or  an  arm,  weak  and  enfeebled  as  it  may  be  by  age,  that  voice  and 
that  arm  will  be  on  the  side  of  my  country,  for  the  support  of  the 
general  authority,  and  for  the  maintenance  of  the  power  of  this 
Union.14 

As  the  concluding  words  of  his  last  great  speech  died  away 
and  Clay  sank  exhausted  into  his  seat,  pandemonium  broke 
loose  on  the  floor  and  in  the  galleries.  Heedless  of  all  parlia- 
mentary restraints,  men  and  women  rushed  down  the  aisles 
and  clambered  over  desks  and  benches  to  shake  his  hand  and 
kiss  his  quivering,  tear-stained  cheeks.15 

The  aged  senator  had  made,  perhaps,  his  greatest  oratorical 
effort.  For  him  it  was  a  personal  triumph,  but  his  cause  was 
momentarily  lost.  He  retired  to  the  peaceful  atmosphere  of 
Newport  to  escape  the  sultry  summer  in  Washington.  The 
task  of  reopening  the  compromise  issue  fell  to  the  rising  Demo- 
cratic senator  from  Illinois,  Stephen  A.  Douglas. 

When  Congress  adjourned  on  September  20,  1850,  all  of 
Clay's  compromise  proposals  had  been  adopted,  and  Lincoln 
believed,  as  did  many  others,  that  the  slavery  question  was 
settled  for  all  time;  that  Congress,  as  he  later  said,  had  put 
"the  seal  of  legislation  against  its  spread  and  all  had  acquiesced 
in  the  compromise  measures  of  1850." 

Now  that  the  great  issue  seemed  closed,  Lincoln  felt  that 
his  political  days  were  over.  He  had  suffered  keen  disappoint- 
ment that  no  popular  demand  arose  for  his  re-election  to  Con- 
gress. "There  is  nothing  about  me  which  would  authorize  me 
to  think  of  a  first  class  office,"  he  had  confided  to  Joshua  Speed, 
"and  a  second  class  one  would  not  compensate  me  for  being 
snarled  at  by  others  who  want  it  for  themselves."16  So,  forsaking 
politics,  as  he  thought,  for  ever,  Lincoln  now  settled  down  to 
the  practice  of  law  with  more  diligence  and  energy  than  ever 
before. 


THE  BURIED   YEARS  201 

Once  again  he  began  to  ride  regularly  the  Eighth  Judicial 
Circuit,  composed  of  fourteen  counties  stretching  from  Sanga- 
mon on  the  west  a  distance  of  120  miles  to  Vermilion  on  the 
east  at  the  Indiana  line.  The  country  was  sparsely  settled,  and 
in  spring  and  fall  the  mud  was  deep,  the  rivers  and  creeks  were 
swollen  and  treacherous.  Some  members  of  the  bar  visited 
only  a  few  of  the  most  accessible  county  seats  in  the  district, 
while  others  made  nearly  all  of  them.  Only  three,  however— 
David  Davis,  the  presiding  judge,  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  Leon- 
ard Swett— rode  the  entire  circuit;  Davis  because  he  had  to; 
Lincoln  and  Swett  because  they  loved  it. 

Always  scrupulously  clean  and  smoothly  shaved,  but  clad 
in  an  ill-fitting  suit  with  the  coat  sleeves  and  trousers  several 
inches  too  short,  his  tall,  battered  stovepipe  hat  looking  "as 
if  a  calf  had  gone  over  it  with  its  wet  tongue,"  carrying  an  old 
saddlebag  filled  with  books,  papers,  and  change  of  linen,  and 
a  huge,  faded,  green  cotton  umbrella,  the  knob  gone  from  the 
handle  and  a  piece  of  twine  tied  around  it  to  keep  it  from 
falling  open,  with  "A.  Lincoln"  in  large  muslin  letters  sewed 
inside— Lincoln  was  the  drollest  figure  and  the  most  popular 
lawyer  in  all  the  fourteen  counties. 

Hotel  accommodations  on  the  circuit  were  usually  of  the 
worst  sort;  food  was  poorly  cooked;  the  bedrooms  were  small 
and  often  anything  but  clean,  and  so  crowded  during  court 
week  that  four  or  five  lawyers  frequently  slept  in  the  same 
room;  while  defendants  on  trial,  witnesses,  lawyers,  jurors,  and 
judge  all  sat  at  one  long  table  in  the  dining  room. 

Yet  in  spite  of  hardships  and  discomforts  the  circuit  had 
its  brighter  side  and  compensating  joys.  In  the  evening,  after 
court  had  adjourned,  a  gay  and  versatile  group  would  gather 
in  Judge  Davis'  room.  There  was  Davis  himself,  the  dignified 
judge  while  on  the  bench,  but  off  of  it  the  affable  companion 
that  loved  a  laugh.  There  was  Logan,  the  scholarly;  Stuart, 
the  shrewd  and  kindly;  Swett,  the  clever;  Baker,  the  handsome; 
Lamon,  the  amusing;  Oglesby,  the  eloquent;  Campbell,  the 
musical;  and  Ficklin,  and  Somers,  and,  always,  the  tall,  angular, 


202  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

genial  favorite— Lincoln.  Hour  after  hour  would  swiftly  pass 
in  song  and  story,  and  Judge  Davis'  fat  sides  would  shake  as 
Lincoln  related  some  humorous  anecdote  in  his  droll,  inim- 
itable way. 

Then,  after  midnight,  when  the  merry  crowd  had  dispersed 
and  retired,  Lincoln,  with  a  candle  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  his 
long  legs  protruding  over  the  footboard,  would  read  Shakes- 
peare or  Burns  until  far  into  the  hours  of  the  morning,  ap- 
parently unmindful  of  the  lusty  snoring  of  Judge  Davis  or  his 
other  roommates.17 

Lincoln  had  just  returned  to  Springfield  from  a  trip  on  the 
circuit  when  a  dispatch  from  Washington  on  Tuesday,  June 
29,  1852,  announced  the  death  of  Henry  Clay.  For  several 
weeks  the  old  statesman  had  been  sinking  steadily  in  his  apart- 
ments at  the  National  Hotel.  "One  of  the  most  remarkable 
phenomena,"  said  the  Springfield  Illinois  Daily  Journal,  "ac- 
companying the  sickness  and  gradual  dissolution  of  Mr.  Clay, 
was  a  species  of  second  sight—a  living  dream,  .  .  .  which  brought 
to  his  bedside  not  only  the  persons  of  his  living  friends,  but 
also  those  who  had  departed  this  life  for  many  years.  What 
a  blessing  it  must  have  been  to  a  man  of  such  warm  affections 
as  Mr.  Clay,  to  be  thus  surrounded  by  all  he  loved— to  have 
the  grave,  which  was  about  to  encompass  him,  surrender  the 
dead,  by  the  magic  attraction  of  his  departing  spirit."18 

That  evening  a  large  crowd  of  Springfield  citizens  assembled 
at  the  courthouse  "for  the  purpose  of  making  arrangements 
to  commemorate  the  event  that  has  filled  the  land  with  sor- 
row. .  .  .  Honorable  Abraham  Lincoln  was  called  to  the  chair," 
and  after  several  speeches  had  been  made,  the  chairman  ap- 
pointed a  committee  of  thirteen  citizens  to  make  "suitable 
arrangements"  to  be  reported  at  an  adjourned  meeting  on  the 
following  night.  On  Wednesday  evening  the  committee  made 
its  report  and  plans  were  adopted  for  "paying  a  tribute  of 
respect  to  the  Memory  of  Henry  Clay."    Tuesday,  July  6,  was 


&~> 


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C^,     &4£^..<^^  l  &f  <ua— '  ^--*^J, 


Lincoln's  "indignation"  letter  ro  George  B.  Kinkead 

Original  owned  by  the  author 


Lexington  in  1850.   From  a  print  owned  by  the  author 


The  old  Lexington  courthouse,  where  Lincoln  was  sued 


Henry  Clay.    Courtesy  of  tJie  Missouri  State  Historical  Society 


THE  BURIED   YEARS  203 

designated  as  the  time,  and  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives as  the  place,  and  it  was  resolved:  "That  Honorable 
Stephen  T.  Logan  be  requested  to  deliver  an  oration  suitable 
to  the  occasion." 

For  some  reason  the  committee  changed  its  selection  of  a 
speaker  and  chose  Lincoln,  who  had  scant  opportunity  for 
preparation.  The  Whig  convention  would  assemble  in  Spring- 
field  on  the  seventh,  and  much  was  yet  to  be  done  toward  plans 
for  organization.  Furthermore,  he  was  busy  at  work  on  the 
defense  of  a  one-legged  veteran  of  the  Mexican  War  named 
Williamson,  formerly  the  postmaster  of  Lacon,  whose  trial  on 
a  charge  of  robbing  the  mails  was  then  set  for  July  12  in  the 
United  States  District  Court.19 

But  Lincoln  willingly  accepted  the  invitation,  and  hastily 
began  the  preparation  of  an  obituary  eulogy,  a  task  for  which 
he  was  not  particularly  well  fitted  either  by  temperament  or 
by  experience.  Meanwhile,  after  impressive  ceremonies  in  the 
United  States  Senate  chamber,  the  most  extraordinary  proces- 
sion ever  witnessed  by  the  nation,  until  Lincoln's  own  funeral 
cortege  thirteen  years  later,  journeyed  from  Washington  to  Ken- 
tucky. Through  Baltimore,  Philadelphia,  New  York,  Buffalo, 
Cleveland,  Cincinnati,  and  Louisville,  the  special  train,  draped 
in  mourning,  slowly  made  its  way,  bearing  the  dead  body  of 
the  Sage  of  Ashland  back  home  to  Lexington.20 

On  Tuesday  morning,  July  6,  a  "procession  consisting  of 
Odd  Fellows,  Temple  of  Honor,  Sons  of  Temperance,  Cadets 
of  Temperance,  and  a  large  number  of  citizens  marched  to  the 
Episcopal  Church"  in  Springfield  where  services  were  read  by 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Dresser.  Then,  amid  the  tolling  of  bells 
and  the  firing  of  seventy-six  minute  guns,  "the  procession  moved 
to  the  Representatives'  Hall,  where  Honorable  A.  Lincoln  pro- 
nounced an  impressive  eulogy  on  the  character  and  services  of 
the  deceased.  During  the  proceedings,  business  was  suspended, 
doors  closed  and  everything  announced  the  general  sorrow  at 
the  great  national  bereavement."21 


204  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Lincoln  began  his  address  by  quoting  from  one  of  the  pub- 
lic journals,  "chiefly,  because  I  could  not,  in  any  language  of 
my  own,  so  well  express  my  thoughts.  .  .  .  'Alas!  who  can 
realize  that  Henry  Clay  is  dead!  Who  can  realize  that  never 
again  that  majestic  form  shall  rise  in  the  council-chambers  of 
his  country  to  beat  back  the  storms  of  anarchy  which  may 
threaten,  or  pour  the  oil  of  peace  upon  the  troubled  billows 
as  they  rage  and  menace  around?'  '  Then  Lincoln  briefly 
sketched  the  long  and  varied  career  of  his  subject;  his  humble 
birth  in  Hanover  County,  Virginia;  his  removal  to  Lexington, 
Kentucky;  his  spectacular  rise  in  politics;  his  "leading  and 
most  conspicuous  part"  in  these  "great  and  fearful  crises,  the 
Missouri  question— the  Nullification  question,  and  the  late  slav- 
ery question,  as  connected  with  the  newly  acquired  territory, 
involving  and  endangering  the  stability  of  the  Union." 

The  speaker  dwelt  upon  Clay's  lifelong  activities  in  behalf 
of  the  American  Colonization  Society.  "I  would  also,"  said 
Lincoln,  "if  I  could,  array  his  name,  opinions,  and  influence 
.  .  .  against  a  few,  but  an  increasing  number  of  men,  who,  for 
the  sake  of  perpetuating  slavery,  are  beginning  to  assail  and 
to  ridicule  the  white-man's  charter  of  freedom— the  declaration 
that  'all  men  are  created  free  and  equal.'  " 

"But  Henry  Clay  is  dead,"  Lincoln  observed  sadly  in  con- 
clusion. "His  long  and  eventful  life  is  closed.  Our  country 
is  prosperous  and  powerful;  but  could  it  have  been  quite  all 
it  has  been,  and  is,  and  is  to  be,  without  Henry  Clay?  Such  a 
man  the  times  have  demanded,  and  such,  in  the  providence  of 
God  was  given  us.  But  he  is  gone.  Let  us  strive  to  deserve, 
as  far  as  mortals  may,  the  continued  care  of  Divine  Providence, 
trusting  that,  in  future  national  emergencies,  He  will  not  fail 
to  provide  us  the  instruments  of  safety  and  security."22 

Early  in  October,  1852,  the  lawsuits  at  Lexington  relating 
to  the  settlement  of  the  Todd  estate  again  required  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Springfield  heirs.    A  sharp  difference  of  opinion 


THE  BURIED   YEARS  205 

had  arisen  over  the  disposition  of  the  slaves.  Harvey  had  been 
appraised  at  $700,  Pendleton  at  $550,  and  Chaney  and  her  six- 
year-old  daughter  Mary  Ann  and  her  infant  boy  about  six 
weeks  old  at  $950.  George  Todd  contended  that  the  slaves 
were  valued  too  low.  The  Widow  Todd  claimed  that  the  ap- 
praisal was  excessive.  She  emphasized  the  fact  that  "the  face 
of  Harvey  was  badly  scarred,"  that  the  boy  'Ten,"  who  had 
"lived  with  Levi,  had  been  whipped  a  good  deal"  and  was 
"delicate  and  subject  to  a  bleeding  at  the  nose."  A  few  weeks 
before,  George  had  seized  Harvey  and  Pendleton,  finding  them, 
as  he  claimed,  "badly  clothed  and  destitute  of  bed  clothing," 
and  carried  them  to  his  home.  It  was  only  after  much  argu- 
ment and  the  taking  of  proof  that  he  was  required  by  the  court 
to  return  them  for  sale  at  public  auction  at  the  courthouse 
door  in  Lexington.23 

The  adjustment  of  this  controversy,  however,  and  the  final 
settlement  of  the  Todd  estate  did  not  terminate  Lincoln's  liti- 
gation in  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court.  On  May  12,  1853,  Oldham 
&  Hemingway,  surviving  partners  of  Robert  S.  Todd's  old  firm, 
brought  a  suit  against  Lincoln  which  was  doubtless  the  most 
vexatious  experience  in  all  the  years  of  his  law  practice.24  It 
was  alleged  by  plaintiffs  that  the  firm  during  Todd's  lifetime 
had  sent  Lincoln  various  claims  for  collection  against  Illinois 
customers  of  the  cotton  factory,  aggregating  the  sum  of  $472.54, 
and  that  he  had  recovered  the  entire  amount  and  converted 
it  to  his  own  use.  At  the  same  time  an  attachment  was  also 
levied  on  about  $750  belonging  to  the  defendant  and  his  wife, 
then  in  the  hands  of  their  local  attorney. 

Lincoln  was  out  on  the  circuit  when  the  news  of  this  sur- 
prising event  reached  Springfield,  but  he  heard  it  some  two 
weeks  later  at  Danville.  Although  the  summons  did  not  require 
the  defendant  to  answer  until  the  first  day  of  the  next  August 
term,  he  sat  down  at  once,  wrote  out  his  answer,  swore  to  it 
before  Samuel  G.  Craig,  clerk  of  the  Vermilion  Circuit  Court, 
and  mailed  it  with  a  warm  note  to  his  lawyer  at  Lexington: 


206  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Danville,  Ills-May  27,  1853 
George  B.  Kinkead,  Esq 
Lexington, 
Ky- 

I  am  here  attending  court  a  hundred  and  thirty  miles  from  home; 
and  where  a  copy  of  your  letter  of  this  month,  to  Mr.  Edwards, 
reached  me  from  him,  last  evening.  I  find  it  difficult  to  suppress 
my  indignation  towards  those  who  have  got  up  this  claim  against 
me.  I  would  really  be  glad  to  hear  Mr.  Hemingway  explain  how 
he  was  induced  to  swear  he  believed  the  claim  to  be  just!  I  here- 
with inclose  my  answer.  If  it  is  insufficient  either  in  substance,  or 
in  the  authentication  of  the  oath,  return  it  to  me  at  at  \sic\  Spring- 
field (where  I  shall  be  after  about  ten  days)  stating  the  defective 
points.  You  will  perceive  in  my  answer,  that  I  ask  the  Petitioners 
to  be  ruled  to  file  a  bill  of  particulars,  stating  names  &  residences 
&c.  I  do  this  to  enable  me  to  absolutely  disprove  the  claim.  I  can 
really  prove  by  independent  evidence,  every  material  statement  of 
my  answer;  and  if  they  will  name  any  living  accessable  man,  as 
one  of  whom  I  have  received  their  money,  I  will,  by  that  man  dis- 
prove the  charge.  I  know  it  is  for  them  to  prove  their  claim,  rather 
than  for  me  to  disprove  it;  but  I  am  unwilling  to  trust  the  oath  of 
any  man,  who  either  made  or  prompted  the  oath  to  the  Petition. 
Write  me  soon.   Very  Respectfully— 

A.  Lincoln.25 

Lincoln's  answer  was  an  emphatic  denial  of  the  plaintiff's 
allegations.  He  stated  that  the  only  money  he  had  ever  col- 
lected for  Robert  S.  Todd  was  fifty  dollars  on  an  old  account 
in  1846,  which  his  father-in-law,  while  on  a  visit  to  Springfield, 
had  directed  him  to  "take  and  retain  it  as  his  own";  that 

With  the  exception  of  the  fifty  dollars  aforesaid,  received  by 
Respondent  under  the  circumstances  aforesaid,  Respondent  denies 
that  he  ever  received  any  thing  whatever,  to  which  said  firm,  or 
said  Petitioners  could  have  a  pretence  of  a  claim.  Respondent  fur- 
ther states  that  when  he  visited  Lexington  in  the  autumn  of  1849, 
as  he  remembers,  he  stated  this  whole  matter  to  said  Hemingway 
and  to  L.  O.  Todd,  as  he  now  states  it;  and  that,  more  recently,  in 
the  spring  of  1852,  he  again  fully  stated  it,  in  his  sworn  answer  to 
a  Bill  filed  for  the  adjustment  of  the  estate  of  said  Robert  S.  Todd, 


THE  BURIED  YEARS  207 

which  answer  doubtless  is  on  file  in  the  said  Fayette  circuit  court. 
.  .  .  Respondent  cares  but  little  for  said  fifty  dollars;  if  it  is  his 
legal  right  he  prefers  retaining  it;  but  he  objects  to  repaying  it 
once  to  the  estate  of  said  Robert  S.  Todd,  and  again  to  said  firm, 
or  to  said  Petitioners;  and  he  particularly  objects  to  being  com- 
pelled to  pay  money  to  said  firm  or  said  Petitioner's  which  he  never 
received  at  all.26 

At  the  June  term  of  court  Oldham  &  Hemingway  made  no 
effort  to  have  the  case  assigned  for  trial,  and  after  adjournment 
Lincoln  wrote  Mr.  Kinkead:  "I  feel  some  anxiety  about  the 
suit  which  has  been  gotten  up  against  me  in  your  court.  ...  I 
have  said  before,  and  now  repeat,  that  if  they  will  name  the 
man  or  men  of  whom,  they  say,  I  have  collected  money  for 
them,  I  will  disprove  it."27 

Evidently  Lincoln  was  aware  that  his  brother-in-law,  Levi 
Todd,  was  responsible  for  this  suit  against  him.  The  records 
show  that  several  weeks  prior  to  the  Oldham  &  Hemingway 
suit  Lincoln  and  Ninian  W.  Edwards  had  sued  Levi  in  the 
Fayette  Circuit  Court,28  and  Levi  had  doubtless  retaliated  by 
inducing  his  father's  former  partners  to  sue  Lincoln. 

Without  a  bill  of  particulars  [wrote  Lincoln  from  Bloomington 
to  Kinkead  on  September  13,  1853]  stating  the  names  of  the  per- 
sons of  whom,  O.  T.  &  Co  claim  that  I  have  collected  money  for 
them,  any  proof  I  can  possibly  take,  will  be  wide  of  the  mark— can 
not  meet  Levi's  statement,  (which  I  now  suppose  he  is  determined 
to  make)  that  "I  told  him  I  owed  the  amount  attached."  .  .  .  This 
matter  harr asses  my  feelings  a  good  deal;  and  I  shall  be  greatly 
obliged  if  you  will  write  me  immediately,  under  cover  to  Mr.  Ed- 
wards at  Springfield,  Ills— telling  me  first,  when  is  the  next  term  of 
your  court;  and  second,  whether  I  can  or  can  not  have  a  bill  of 
particulars.29 

Under  the  pleadings  the  burden  of  proof  was  on  those  who 
asserted  the  claim  and  not,  as  Lincoln  aptly  observed,  upon 
him  to  disprove  it.  A  motion  to  dismiss  for  want  of  prosecution 
would  have  been  sustained  by  the  court,  but  Lincoln  did  not 
intend  to  rely  on  technicalities  when  his  personal  integrity  had 


208  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

been  assailed.  Therefore,  when  the  plaintiffs  were  finally  com- 
pelled to  file  a  statement  containing  the  names  of  the  persons 
whose  accounts  the  defendant  was  charged  with  having  col- 
lected, he  promptly  assumed  the  burden  of  proof  himself,  and 
by  depositions  taken  at  Shelby ville  on  November  8,  1853,  at 
Springfield  on  November  12,  and  at  Beardstown  on  November 

15,  Lincoln  completely  refuted  every  allegation  that  Oldham 
&  Hemingway  had  made  against  him.  This  evidence  was  so 
conclusive  that  plaintiffs  themselves  filed  a  motion  on  January 

16,  1854,  to  dismiss  the  case,  which  was  done  at  their  cost  on 
February  10,  when  the  next  term  of  court  convened.30  The 
incident  was  closed  by  the  following  letter: 

Springfield,  Ills. 

June  16,  1854 
Geo.  B.  Kinkead,  Esq. 

Lexington,  Ky. 
Dear  Sir:  Your  letter  of  the  8th.  Inst,  to  N.  W.  Edwards,  enclosing 
a  draft  of  between  two  and  three  hundred  dollars  (I  write  from 
memory  only  as  to  the  amount)  reached  here  a  day  or  two  since, 
and  was,  in  Mr.  Edwards'  absence,  taken  from  the  P.  office  and 
opened  by  his  brother.  It  was  shown  to  me  this  morning,  and  will 
be  kept  at  the  store  of  which  Mr.  Edwards  is  a  partner  until  his 
return,  which  will  be  about  six  weeks  hence  Sc  when,  doubtless,  he 
will  write  you. 

I  ran  my  eye  over  the  contents  of  your  letter,  &  only  have  to 
say  you  do  not  seem  disposed  to  compensate  yourself  very  liberally 
for  the  separate  services  you  did  for  me.   Yours  truly 

A.  Lincoln—31 

The  vindication  of  Lincoln's  honor  found  him  on  the  eve 
of  re-entrance  into  public  life.  Momentous  events  were  taking 
place  in  Congress,  which  would  arouse  the  nation  and  stir  the 
Springfield  lawyer  to  profound  depths. 


FOURTEEN 


Storm  Clouds 


CARLY  in  January,  1854,  Stephen  A.  Douglas  of  Illinois  re- 
ported to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  a  bill  for  the  organi- 
zation of  the  Territory  of  Nebraska.  Twelve  days  later  Senator 
Archibald  Dixon,  the  old  Whig  associate  of  Robert  S.  Todd 
in  the  Kentucky  legislature,  now  filling  out  the  unexpired  term 
of  Henry  Clay,  startled  the  country  by  offering  an  amendment 
to  the  Nebraska  Bill  which  in  effect  repealed  the  Missouri 
Compromise  and  opened  vast  areas  of  the  West  to  slavery. 

For  four  months  the  halls  of  Congress  rocked  in  the  throes 
of  a  bitter,  violent  debate,  then  unequaled  in  the  parliamentary 
annals  of  the  nation.  Personal  encounters  were  narrowly  avert- 
ed on  the  floor  as  hot  accusations  and  retorts,  often  couched  in 
fighting  language,  shot  back  and  forth  across  the  aisles. 

"He  retreats,"  said  Cutting  of  New  York  one  day  in  the 
House,  referring  to  his  colleague,  John  C.  Breckinridge  of  Lex- 
ington, "and  escapes,  and  skulks  behind  the  Senate  Bill." 

Breckinridge  was  instantly  on  his  feet.  "I  ask  the  gentleman 
to  withdraw  that  last  word,"  he  said  sharply. 

"I  will  withdraw  nothing,"  retorted  Cutting  emphatically. 


210  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

"What  I  have  said  I  have  said  in  answer  to  the  most  violent  and 
personal  attack  ever  made  on  a  gentleman  on  this  floor." 

"When  the  gentleman  says  I  skulk,"  replied  Breckinridge 
with  a  metallic  ring  in  his  voice,  "he  says  what  is  false  and 
knows  it." 

"I  do  not  answer  remarks  such  as  the  gentleman  has  thought 
proper  to  employ,"  responded  Cutting  in  the  midst  of  much 
excitement  and  cries  of  "order— order."  "They  belong  to  a  dif- 
ferent arena.  I  am  not  here  to  desecrate  my  lips  by  answering 
in  such  a  tone  and  manner."1 

That  afternoon  Cutting  sent  Breckinridge  a  note  referring 
to  his  charge  of  falsehood  and  demanding  that  he  "retract  this 
assertion  or  make  the  satisfaction  due  from  one  gentleman  to 
another."  Breckinridge's  reply  proposed  rifles  at  sixty  paces, 
but  Colonel  Monroe,  second  for  Cutting,  declined  the  terms 
on  the  ground  that  "the  weapon  selected  is  one  with  which 
my  principal  is  wholly  unacquainted"  and  for  the  further  rea- 
son that  "Mr.  Cutting's  note,  not  having  been  intended  as  a 
challenge,"  his  principal  was  the  challenged  party  and  there- 
fore had  the  choice  of  weapons  if  a  duel  was  to  be  fought.  But 
while  the  seconds  of  the  parties  argued  technical  points  of  the 
code  duello,  friends  intervened  and  the  encounter  was  averted.2 

Then,  on  May  30,  1854— in  the  words  of  the  jubilant  Lex- 
ington press— "after  a  severe  and  protracted  struggle,  the  friends 
of  equal  justice  to  all  the  states  and  of  the  sovereignty  of  the 
people,  triumphed,"  and  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  sponsored 
by  Stephen  A.  Douglas  became  a  law;  the  great  compromise 
measures  of  the  dead  Sage  of  Ashland  were  overthrown,  and 
the  slave  power,  booted  and  spurred  and  flushed  with  success, 
was  again  firmly  seated  in  the  saddle. 

Storms  of  protest  swept  the  country  as  antislavery  news- 
papers unfolded  to  their  readers  the  far-reaching  effect  of  this 
enactment  which  opened  up  for  slave  occupation  an  area  equal 
to  that  of  the  thirteen  original  states.  "I  was  losing  interest 
in  politics  when  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  aroused 


STORM  CLOUDS  211 

me  again,"  said  Lincoln,  "but  upon  the  event,  I  became  con- 
vinced that  either  I  had  been  resting  in  a  delusion  or  the  in- 
stitution was  being  placed  on  a  new  basis— a  basis  for  making 
it  perpetual,  national  and  universal."3  Lincoln,  however,  was 
by  no  means  the  only  person  in  Illinois  alarmed  at  the  trend 
of  public  events.  Thousands  of  antislavery  men  in  various 
sections  of  the  state  were  aroused  to  action.  They  felt  that  the 
existing  situation  should  be  vigorously  and  publicly  condemned, 
and  in  casting  about  for  a  fearless  spokesman,  they  selected 
Cassius  M.  Clay  and  invited  him  to  make  a  series  of  speeches 
in  Illinois. 

It  was  in  response  to  this  invitation  that  on  the  afternoon 
of  July  10,  1854,  at  Springfield  the  battle-scarred  veteran  of 
the  Kentucky  hustings,  Cassius  M.  Clay,  turned  his  roaring 
guns  upon  the  Illinois  State  Register,  Judge  Douglas,  and  all 
other  advocates  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  in  a  characteristic 
address  entitled:  "The  Signs  of  the  Times  in  our  Political 
World."  Having  been  refused  the  rotunda  of  the  statehouse, 
the  meeting  was  held  near  the  city  in  a  grove  where  the  state 
capitol  stands  today.  From  a  hastily  constructed  speaker's  stand, 
heedless  of  shouts  from  the  audience  to  "take  him  down,"  Clay 
launched  a  terrific  attack  upon  those  who  were  either  respon- 
sible for  or  condoned  the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise. 

The  speaker  started  out  by  saying  that  he  found  himself 
somewhat  in  the  condition  of  John  the  Baptist  who  came 
preaching  in  the  wilderness.  Even  in  his  own  state— a  slave 
state— the  common  courtesy  of  citizenship  had  never  been  with- 
held from  him;  no  courthouse  or  statehouse  door  had  ever 
been  shut  in  his  face.  There  was  a  spirit  of  magnanimity  among 
Kentuckians  that  was  "superior  to  such  meanness  as  that."  To 
those  who  had  refused  him  courtesy  today  it  might  afford  some 
satisfaction  to  know  that  his  father,  grandfather,  and  family 
kindred  had  fought  on  nearly  every  battlefield  in  our  country 
from  the  days  of  the  Revolution  and  had  "helped  to  purchase 
with  their  blood,  these  privileges  which  were  now  enjoyed  by 


212  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

men  of  to-day."  At  least  he  felt  himself  "no  intruder  in  this 
capital  city  of  the  west." 

As  to  his  principles  and  doctrines,  Clay  remarked  that  he 
stood  before  his  audience  as  the  advocate  of  constitutional 
liberty.  "The  Declaration  of  Independence  asserted  an  im- 
mortal truth.  It  declared  a  political  equality— equality  as  to 
personal,  civil  and  religious  rights."  It  was  a  modern  doctrine 
that  slavery  was  supported  by  the  Constitution,  when  in  fact 
it  was  contrary  to  the  letter  and  spirit  of  that  immortal  docu- 
ment and  to  the  history  of  its  formation.  "Slavery  was  simply 
tolerated  by  the  framers  of  the  Constitution,  but  now  like  the 
porcupine  in  the  fable,  it  thrusts  out  its  quills  and  pronounces 
itself  well  satisfied,  and  if  its  neighbors  don't  like  it,  they  may 
do  better  somewhere  else.  ...  It  is  not  the  part  then  of  free- 
men—American Freemen— to  act  as  blood  hounds  for  the  slave 
hunter,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Would  you  help  a  runaway  slave?"  shouted  a  voice  from 
the  crowd. 

"That  would  depend  upon  which  way  he  was  running," 
retorted  Clay  quickly,  and  the  heckler  subsided  in  the  laughter 
that  followed. 

"So  long  as  slavery  continued  a  local  institution,"  the  speak- 
er resumed,  "it  should  be  left  to  itself."  He  would  oppose  to 
the  last  any  crusade  from  the  North  against  the  South;  but 
when  slavery  became  aggressive  and  proposed  to  extend  itself 
over  free  territories,  then  he  should  rise,  and  stigmatize  it  as 
it  deserved.  He  dwelt  at  length  upon  the  "Nebraska  and  Kan- 
sas outrage."  The  territory  included  in  this  bill  was  ten  times 
larger  than  the  state  of  Illinois.  It  was  to  be  the  central  point 
in  the  great  heart  of  an  American  civilization.  Through  it 
would  pass  the  line  of  travel  from  the  Atlantic  to  China  and 
Japan.  "As  men  of  commerce,  mere  men  of  the  world,  conscious 
that  slavery  leads  back  to  barbarism,  we  cannot  look  with 
indifference  upon  the  conversion  of  this  vast  region  to  slavery. 
The  German,  the  Irish,  the  Briton,  the  American,  unite  in 
declaring  on  this  soil  must  be  planted  free  institutions." 


STORM  CLOUDS  213 

Clay  closed  his  address  of  two  hours  and  a  half  with  a 
stirring  appeal  for  a  militant  organization  of  freemen  which 
would  "strike  at  the  monster  aggressor  wherever  it  could  be 
reached  under  the  constitution— an  organization  of  men  of 
whatever  politics,  of  Free  Soilers,  Whigs  and  Democrats,  who 
should  bury  past  animosities,  and  repenting  past  errors  which 
all  have  been  guilty  of,  unite  in  hurling  down  the  gigantic  evil 
which  threatened  even  their  own  liberty.  When  men  violate 
the  .  .  .  Constitution,  put  them  down.  Repeal  unconstitutional 
enactments,  restore  liberty  to  Kansas  and  Nebraska.  .  .  .  Slav- 
ery must  be  kept  a  sectional,  and  liberty  a  national  institution," 
and  then  "the  Ship  of  State  would  again  set  forward  in  her 
glorious  career  of  Constitutional  Liberty."4 

Lincoln  had  called  upon  the  Kentucky  orator  when  he  ar- 
rived in  Springfield  and  was  present  when  he  made  his  speech. 
"Whittling  sticks  as  he  lay  on  the  turf,"  said  Clay,  "Lincoln 
gave  me  a  most  patient  hearing.  I  shall  never  forget  his  long, 
ungainly  form,  and  his  ever  sad  and  homely  face.  He  was  but 
little  known  to  the  world,  but  his  being  the  husband  of  my 
old  friend  of  earlier  days  caused  me  to  look  with  interest  upon 
him.  I  flatter  myself,  when  Lincoln  listened  to  my  animated 
appeals  for  universal  liberty  for  more  than  two  hours,  that  I 
sowed  good  seed  in  good  ground,  which  in  the  providence  of 
God  produced  in  time  good  fruit."5 

The  Springfield  newspapers  were,  of  course,  divided  in  their 
estimate  of  Clay's  speech.  The  Register,  smarting  under  the 
castigation,  referred  to  the  speaker  as  the  "notorious"  and 
"abolition  missionary"  of  treasonable  extremes.  "Sentiments 
more  atrocious,"  it  said,  "never  found  a  place  in  the  heart  of 
the  foulest  traitor  that  ever  meditated  the  destruction  of  his 
country."6 

The  Illinois  Journal,  edited  by  Lincoln's  long-time  friend, 
Simeon  Francis,  saw  the  occasion  in  a  far  different  light.  "Not- 
withstanding the  busy  time  with  our  farmers,  and  the  incon- 
venience to  our  citizens  of  attending  a  lecture  some  distance 
from  the  Square,"  it  said,  "we  should  think  there  was  full  fif- 


214  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

teen  hundred  assembled  yesterday  in  the  grove  near  Mrs.  Math- 
er's residence,  to  hear  the  great  speech  of  Cassius  M.  Clay— for 
such  it  was— a  great  heroic  speech.  .  .  .  He  spoke  boldly, 
proudly,  his  sentiments— in  the  face  and  eyes  of  all  the  con- 
tumely and  insults  thrown  upon  him.  ...CM.  Clay  has 
made  several  speeches  in  different  parts  of  the  State.  We  be- 
lieve he  has  been,  in  every  place,  with  the  exception  of  this, 
respectfully  treated."7 

With  slavery  now  the  paramount  question  in  every  state  of 
the  Union,  Lincoln  was  convinced  that  the  "parting  of  the 
ways"  had  come.  There  could  be  no  more  temporizing,  no  more 
compromising  with  the  slave  power.  The  extension  into  the 
territories  must  be  resisted  and  prevented  at  all  hazards,  if  the 
institution  was  not  to  become  national.  Douglas,  fresh  from 
his  Kansas-Nebraska  victory,  with  the  applause  of  the  South 
ringing  in  his  ears,  had  returned  to  Illinois  to  defend  his  sena- 
torial course  among  his  constituents.  But  blood  was  on  his 
hands.  The  murder  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  must  be 
avenged,  and  Abraham  Lincoln  put  up  his  law  books,  laid 
aside  his  briefs,  packed  his  old  carpet  satchel,  and  prepared  to 
grapple  with  the  slayer. 

On  October  3  Douglas  spoke  in  the  hall  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  during  the  state  fair  in  Springfield.  Lincoln 
answered  him  from  the  same  platform  next  day.  Twelve  days 
later  they  met  again  in  joint  debate  at  Peoria,  and  Lincoln's 
calm,  dispassionate  analysis  of  the  situation  on  these  two  oc- 
casions made  him  the  undisputed  leader  of  the  antislavery  forces 
in  the  state  of  Illinois.  Henceforth  they  looked  to  him  for  in- 
spiration and  guidance,  and  more  and  more  he  became  absorbed 
in  the  attempt  to  solve  the  vital  problem  that  was  beginning 
to  threaten  the  dissolution  of  the  Union. 

In  December,  Emilie  Todd— "Little  Sister"— came  to  Spring- 
field for  a  lengthy  visit  with  Mary  and  her  other  sisters,  Eliza- 
beth  Edwards,    Frances   Wallace,   and   Ann   Smith.     Emilie— 


STORM  CLOUDS  215 

eighteen  years  old,  with  her  bright,  regular  features,  peach- 
bloom  complexion,  slender  figure,  light  brown  hair,  and  dark, 
luminous  eyes— was  Robert  Todd's  most  beautiful  daughter  and 
Mary's  warm  favorite  of  all  her  sisters  and  half  sisters. 

Springfield  society  was  gay  that  winter,  as  it  usually  was 
when  the  legislature  was  in  session— dinners,  parties,  balls,  and, 
this  time,  hilarious  sleigh  riding  in  an  especially  deep  snow. 
The  Lincolns,  however,  for  the  first  five  weeks  of  the  new 
year  were  extremely  absorbed  in  the  candidacy  of  "brother" 
Lincoln  for  the  United  States  Senate.  All  the  relatives  were 
interested.  Emilie  sat  with  sister  Elizabeth  in  the  gallery  of 
the  statehouse  on  the  afternoon  of  February  8,  1855,  when 
Lincoln  broke  a  deadlock  between  James  Shields  and  himself 
by  throwing  his  vote  to  Lyman  Trumbull. 

Seeing  Mary  every  day,  and  Lincoln  also,  until  he  started 
on  the  circuit,  she  had  an  excellent  opportunity  to  observe 
their  reactions  to  defeat  and  to  disappointment.  Mary  was 
tight-lipped  for  a  little  while— looked  like  she  could  say  a  lot 
if  she  would,  but  didn't.  Lincoln  was  like  the  boy,  whom  he 
told  about  later  when  Douglas  beat  him,  who  had  stubbed  his 
toe:    "Too  hurt  to  laugh;  too  big  to  cry."8 

"I  regret  my  defeat  moderately,"  he  wrote  Elihu  B.  Wash- 
burne,  "but  I  am  not  nervous  about  it."9 

To  a  client  he  apologized  for  a  tardy  acknowledgment. 
"When  I  received  the  bond,  I  was  dabbling  in  politics;  and, 
of  course,  neglecting  business.  Having  since  been  beaten  out, 
I  have  gone  to  work  again."10 

On  evenings,  especially  when  they  were  somewhat  isolated 
by  the  heavy  snow  storms,  Emilie  and  Lincoln  and  little  Bob 
sat  in  front  of  an  open  fire  while  Mary  read  aloud  from  the 
works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  It  was  a  wonderful  six  months, 
fondly  remembered  by  Emilie  in  extreme  but  sprightly  old 
age,  that  she  spent  with  the  Lincolns  in  Springfield.  They 
would  have  much— so  tragically  much— in  common  in  those 
searing  years  of  the  future,  now  fortunately  veiled  from  view. 


216  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

They  would  sorely  need  all  the  warm  affection  and  deep  un- 
derstanding which  these  months  of  close  companionship  had 
so  greatly  cultivated.11  In  June,  Emilie  came  back  home— the 
only  one  of  Robert  S.  Todd's  daughters  ever  to  return  unwed 
from  north  of  the  Ohio.  Her  heart  was  safe  in  old  Kentucky, 
and  in  less  than  a  year  she  would  be  married. 

By  the  summer  of  1855  the  opposition  newspapers  were 
accusing  Lincoln  of  "mousing  about  the  libraries  of  the  State 
House,"  which  charge  he  made  no  effort  to  deny.  Patiently, 
laboriously,  he  was  digging  citations  from  musty  volumes,  veri- 
fying facts,  and  delving  deep  into  all  the  historical  phases  of 
the  slavery  question.  It  was  about  this  time  that  Judge  George 
Robertson  of  Lexington,  counsel  for  Lincoln  and  the  other 
Illinois  heirs  in  their  suit  against  Robert  Wickliffe  in  the 
Fayette  Circuit  Court,  visited  Springfield.  A  former  chief  jus- 
tice of  the  Kentucky  Court  of  Appeals,  he  had  also  been  a 
member  of  the  Sixteenth  Congress  that  had  adopted  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise,  and  he  lived  to  be  the  last  survivor  of  that 
memorable  session.  He  had  just  published  a  collection  of  his 
own  speeches  on  slavery  and  other  topics  of  public  interest, 
entitled:  Scrap  Book  on  Law  and  Politics,  Men  and  Times. 
Lincoln  was  out  on  the  circuit  when  Robertson  called  at  his 
office,  but  the  Judge  left  a  copy  of  the  book  for  him  with 
Herndon. 

In  a  few  days  Lincoln  returned  home,  and  upon  examina- 
tion of  the  Scrap  Book  he  was  surprised  to  find  that  Congress 
had  acted  upon  the  question  of  the  extension  of  slavery  into 
the  territories  in  1819,  more  than  a  year  prior  to  the  passage  of 
the  Missouri  Compromise  measure.  On  December  16,  1818, 
Robertson  had  introduced  a  bill  for  the  organization  of  the 
Territory  of  Arkansas;  on  February  18,  1819,  Taylor  of  New 
York  had  proposed  an  amendment  "that  neither  slavery  nor 
involuntary  servitude  shall  be  introduced  into  the  said  Terri- 
tory," but  after  a  warm  discussion  the  amendment  had  been 
defeated  by  the  bare  margin  of  two  votes.   The  youthful  Rob- 


STORM  CLOUDS  217 

ertson  had  defended  his  bill  and  opposed  the  amendment  with 
the  same  zeal  and  eloquence  that  later  made  him  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  lawyers  of  the  Kentucky  bar. 

Congress,  as  long  as  it  shall  choose  to  legislate  for  any  such  Ter- 
ritory, may  interdict  the  introduction  of  slavery  as  a  domestic  insti- 
tution [admitted  Robertson].  But  I  deny  that  such  legislation  by 
Congress  would  ever  be  necessary  to  the  public  welfare,  or  would, 
in  any  case,  without  the  hearty  concurrence  of  the  slave  states,  be 
either  just  or  prudent.  .  .  .  The  citizens  who  shall  cast  their  lots 
in  Arkansas  ought  to  decide  for  themselves  whether  slavery  shall 
exist  there  or  not,  just  as  they  would  control  all  their  other  domes- 
tic institutions  and  social  relations  at  home.  Against  their  will, 
Congress  ought  not  to  force  the  establishment  of  slavery  or  any 
other  domestic  relation  among  them.  Against  their  will,  Congress 
ought  not  to  prohibit  slavery  there.  If  Congress  will  legislate  on 
slavery  in  the  Territories,  sound  policy  and  distributive  justice  and 
equality  would  recommend  that  it  draw  a  latitudinal  line  (say 
about  37  degrees  North  latitude)  South  of  which  slavery  may  exist 
but  North  of  which  it  shall  not. 

[The  young  congressman  had  then  closed  with  a  lofty  perora- 
tion.] And  now,  Mr.  Chairman,  allow  me  to  say,  that  if  the  pro- 
posed restrictions  be  pertinaciously  insisted  on  and  maintained  by 
the  majority  of  Congress,  that  majority  will  heedlessly  sow  wind, 
and  may,  in  time  to  come,  woefully  reap  the  whirlwind.  They  may, 
and  I  fear  will,  recklessly  raise  a  storm  that  will  scatter  the  seeds 
of  discord  over  this  favored  land— Dragons'  teeth,  whose  rank  and 
pestilential  crop,  Upas-like,  may  poison  the  vital  elements  of  this 
young,  robust  and  promising  Union,  and  finally,  in  the  progress 
of  desolation,  may  destroy  its  heart  forever.12 

The  disclosures  of  Robertson's  Scrap  Book  from  a  historical 
standpoint  probably  gave  Lincoln  some  disquietude.  In  his 
Peoria  speech  of  the  previous  October  he  had  contended  that 
Congress  in  1787  by  the  adoption  of  the  ordinance  governing 
the  Northwest  had  established  "the  policy  of  prohibiting  slavery 
in  new  territory  from  which,  except  by  mutual  concession  and 
compromise,"  it  had  not  deviated  for  more  than  sixty  years 
until  the  passage  of  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill.    Yet  here  was  a 


218  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

definite  and  specific  instance  to  the  contrary— an  occasion  where 
Congress,  without  "mutual  concession  or  compromise,"  affirmed 
the  doctrine  of  "Popular  Sovereignty,"  so  tersely  stated  by  the 
Kentucky  congressman  nearly  forty  years  before  Douglas  had 
dragged  it  forth  to  public  view  as  an  expedient  of  his  own. 
Perhaps  it  occurred  to  Lincoln  that  if  Douglas  took  to  "mousing 
about  the  libraries  of  the  State  House,"  which,  however,  he 
never  did,  he  might  dig  up  this  action  of  Congress  on  the  Rob- 
ertson resolution  as  a  precedent. 

And  yet  the  action  of  Congress  on  the  Arkansas  resolution 
also  afforded  material  for  Lincoln's  side  of  the  argument. 
Though  this  territory  lay  deep  in  slave  latitude,  87  out  of  176 
members  of  the  lower  house  had  been  in  favor  of  restricting 
slavery  from  this  area  so  exclusively  southern.  Those  who  de- 
fended the  repeal  of  the  Missouri  Compromise  were  now  con- 
tending that  Congress  had  fixed  the  line  of  restriction  in  1820 
at  36°  30'  only  as  a  matter  "of  mutual  concession,"  but  Robert- 
son's speech  showed  that  a  year  earlier  the  spokesman  for  the 
proslavery  members,  on  a  straight  issue  unclouded  by  efforts 
of  compromise  or  collateral  questions,  had  conceded  the  "sound 
policy  and  distributive  justice"  of  approximately  the  line  of 
the  Missouri  Compromise. 

At  any  rate,  on  August  15,  1855,  Lincoln  wrote  the  Judge 
a  long,  earnest  letter: 

The  volume  you  left  for  me  has  been  received.  I  am  really  grate- 
ful for  the  honor  of  your  kind  remembrance,  as  well  as  for  the  book. 
The  partial  reading  I  have  already  given  it,  has  afforded  me  much 
of  both  pleasure  and  instruction.  It  was  new  to  me  that  the  exact 
question  which  led  to  the  Missouri  compromise,  had  arisen  before 
it  arose  in  regard  to  Missouri;  and  that  you  had  taken  so  prominent 
a  part  in  it.  Your  short,  but  able  and  patriotic  speech  upon  that 
occasion,  has  not  been  improved  upon  since,  by  those  holding  the 
same  views;  and,  with  all  the  lights  you  then  had,  the  views  you 
took  appear  to  me  as  very  reasonable. 

Lincoln  then  argued  to  Judge  Robertson  that  the  present  sit- 
uation was  far  different  from  what  it  was  in  1819. 


Emilie  Todd,  as  she  looked  when  she  visited  the  Lincolns 

Original  daguerreotype  owned  by  the  author 


Stephen  A.  Douglas,  debater.    Original 
daguerreotype  owned  by  Mrs.  Zelda  P.  McKay 


Abraham  Lincoln,  on  the  hustings 


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Mrs.  Lincoln's  letter  to  Emilie  about  her  husband's 
politics.    Original  owned  by  author 


STORM  CLOUDS  219 

You  are  not  a  friend  to  slavery  in  the  abstract.  In  that  speech 
you  spoke  of  "the  peaceful  extinction  of  slavery"  and  used  other 
expressions  indicating  your  belief  that  the  thing  was,  at  some  time, 
to  have  an  end.  Since  then  we  have  had  thirty  six  years  of  experi- 
ence; and  this  experience  has  demonstrated,  I  think,  that  there  is 
no  peaceful  extinction  of  slavery  in  prospect  for  us.  .  .  .  So  far  as 
peaceful,  voluntary  emancipation  is  concerned,  the  condition  of 
the  negro  slave  in  America,  scarcely  less  terrible  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  a  free  mind,  is  now  as  fixed,  and  hopeless  of  change  for  the 
better,  as  that  of  the  lost  souls  of  the  finally  impenitent.  .  .  .  Our 
political  problem  now  is  "Can  we,  as  a  nation,  continue  together 
permanently— forever— halt  slave,  and  half  free?"  The  problem  is 
too  mighty  for  me.  May  God,  in  his  mercy,  superintend  the  solu- 
tion.13 

In  the  concluding  paragraph  of  this  letter  Lincoln  wrote 
out  for  the  first  time  the  substance  of  his  famous  "House  di- 
vided against  itself"  declaration  which  three  years  later  brought 
him  into  national  prominence. 

During  the  succeeding  months  Lincoln  finished  reading 
Judge  Robertson's  Scrap  Book  and  sadly  watched  the  disinte- 
gration of  the  Whig  party.  He  was  devoted  to  every  timber 
in  the  battered  craft  that  had  weathered  so  many  heavy  seas 
in  bygone  years.  But  the  skillful  hand  of  the  veteran  pilot, 
Henry  Clay,  was  gone  from  the  helm,  and  the  grim,  doughty 
skipper,  Daniel  Webster,  trod  the  deck  no  more.  Friendly 
winds  no  longer  billowed  her  ragged,  listless  sails.  Slowly,  but 
surely,  the  old  hulk  was  going  down,  with  Lincoln  clinging 
stubbornly  to  the  wreck.  "I  think  I  am  a  whig,"  he  wrote  to 
another  friend  in  Kentucky,  "but  others  say  there  are  no  whigs, 
and  that  I  am  an  abolitionist.  When  I  was  at  Washington  I 
voted  for  the  Wilmot  Proviso  as  good  as  forty  times,  and  I 
never  heard  of  any  one  attempting  to  unwhig  me  for  that. 
I  now  do  no  more  than  oppose  the  extension  of  slavery."14 

Meanwhile,  Judge  Robertson  witnessed  two  events  which 
vividly  illustrated  the  grimmer  aspects  of  that  problem,  the 
solution  of  which  was  "too  mighty"  for  his  friend  Lincoln  and 
upon  which  he  had  invoked  divine  aid  and  mercy. 


220  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

The  Pleasant  Green  Baptist  Church  was  just  down  the 
street  and  one  block  over  from  Judge  Robertson's  mansion, 
"Rokeby  Hall."  This  sheltered  the  religious  congregation  of 
the  "quality"  Negroes  of  Lexington— house  servants  of  many 
of  the  town's  prominent  citizens.  Their  pastor— pious,  eloquent, 
thirty-two-year-old  George  DuPuy— belonged  to  the  Lewis  Craig 
estate,  which  had  been  long  in  process  of  settlement. 

One  morning  a  committee  of  elders  and  deacons  from  Pleas- 
ant Green  in  deep  distress  came  to  the  home  of  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Pratt,  pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church,  widely  known 
champion  and  friend  of  their  race.  The  executor  of  the  Craig 
estate,  so  they  informed  Pratt,  had  just  notified  George  that  it 
had  been  decided  to  include  him  in  the  list  of  slaves  to  be  sold 
for  the  southern  market  the  next  morning  at  auction  on  Cheap- 
side;  DuPuy  was  young,  strong,  and  intelligent,  and  bidding 
on  him  would  be  brisk.  If  Brother  Pratt  and  the  white  folks 
of  his  church  would  save  their  preacher,  Pleasant  Green  would 
gratefully  "pay  them  back"  in  church  collections. 

That  evening  in  Squire  Graves'  office  at  the  courthouse 
Pratt  and  four  of  his  deacons  met  the  executor,  who  was  at 
first  inclined  to  do  some  sharp  trading.  "Mr.  Taylor  considered 
Preacher  DuPuy  a  favorable  piece  of  property— said  he  had 
been  told  the  Negro  was  worth  $1,000.  We  told  him,"  said 
Pratt,  "we  were  not  willing  to  give  over  $800."  Taylor  refused 
the  offer,  and  the  conference  adjourned.  The  Pleasant  Green 
congregation  spent  an  anxious  night.  Next  morning  negotia- 
tions were  resumed.  Taylor  "dropped  $100"— said  he  would 
not  take  less.  Pratt  stuck  by  his  original  offer.  The  auction 
started.  Then,  just  before  the  auctioneer  reached  DuPuy,  Tay- 
lor yielded  to  entreaty  and  "agreed  to  let  him  be  struck  off"  at 
$800.  Having  become  the  property  of  the  First  Baptist  Church, 
Pastor  DuPuy  was  turned  over  to  his  own  overjoyed  congrega- 
tion, to  remain,  however,  a  slave,  since  Negroes  freed  after  the 
enactment  of  a  recent  statute  were  no  longer  permitted  to  re- 
side in  Kentucky.   Pratt  recalled  in  his  diary  that  every  Sunday 


STORM  CLOUDS  221 

morning  a  committee  from  Pleasant  Green— ever  grateful  over 
their  pastor's  narrow  escape  from  the  ''Nigger  trader"— came 
regularly  to  his  home  with  the  Sunday  offering  of  pennies, 
nickels,  and  dimes  until  the  entire  debt  was  paid.15 

The  other  event  observed  by  Judge  Robertson  involved  his 
own  profession  and  the  court  over  which  he  presided  as  chief 
justice  for  many  years.  Steve  Kyler  was  "a  free  man  of  color" 
liberated  before  the  enactment  of  the  1849  constitution.  His 
former  master,  Joseph  Kyler,  had  allowed  him  to  hire  himself 
out  until  he  had  earned  enough  money  to  purchase  his  freedom. 
Joseph  Kyler  also  owned  Steve's  wife  Cynthia.  The  thrifty  and 
industrious  Steve  finally  saved  enough  money  to  obtain  her 
freedom  also,  and  he  and  her  owner  went  to  a  lawyer  to  have 
the  papers  of  manumission  made  out.  The  attorney  informed 
them  that  "under  the  existing  Constitution  of  Kentucky,  Cyn- 
thia could  not  be  emancipated  and  remain  in  the  state."  Since 
she  and  Steve  were  happily  married  and  wanted  to  live  together, 
Joseph  Kyler  upon  advice  of  counsel  executed  a  bill  of  sale  con- 
veying Cynthia  to  her  husband. 

At  peace  in  their  own  neat  cabin,  Steve  and  Cynthia  were 
for  a  time  prosperous.  After  a  while,  however,  Steve  fell  into 
debt,  and  two  suits  against  him  went  to  judgment.  Then  one 
morning,  to  the  great  consternation  of  this  little  household,  a 
constable  appeared,  seized  Cynthia,  and  carried  her  off  to  satisfy 
her  husband's  creditors. 

Steve  hurried  to  his  lawyer,  Allen  Burton,  later  Lincoln's 
minister  to  Colombia,  who  obtained  an  injunction  which  pre- 
vented Cynthia  from  being  sold  until  the  court  could  decide 
whether  she  was  a  wife  or  a  chattel.  The  case  came  on  for 
hearing  in  the  circuit  court,  and  the  trial  judge  promptly  de- 
cided against  Steve  and  Cynthia  and  entered  an  order  of  sale, 
which,  however,  was  stayed  until  Burton's  appeal  could  be  taken 
to  the  Court  of  Appeals  at  Frankfort. 

For  the  creditors,  George  R.  McKee,  whose  brother  Lincoln 
would  appoint  consul  to  Panama,  stoutly  maintained  that  Cyn- 


222  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

thia's  master  "did  no  act  by  which  she  would  at  any  future  time, 
be  entitled  to  freedom."  She  was  "sold  as  a  slave;  in  the  hands 
of  a  purchaser  she  was  liable  to  sale  for  his  debts.  It  is  a  fraud 
on  the  creditors,"  declared  lawyer  McKee,  for  Steve  Kyler  "to 
claim"  Cynthia  "as  a  wife." 

"What!"  replied  Burton,  "a  fraud  for  a  man  not  to  make 
his  wife  a  slave?  Can  the  forbearance  to  do  such  an  act  be 
tortured  into  a  fraud  upon  the  right  of  anyone,  much  less  upon 
the  rights  of  a  creditor  who  did  not  trust  him  on  the  faith  of 
her  being  his  property  but  whose  debt  was  created  while  she 
belonged  to  another  man?" 

"If  this  be  so,"  said  Burton,  "we  are  of  a  certainty  realizing, 
in  the  severest  practical  form,  one  of  the  effects  of  the  bar- 
barous and  piratical  doctrine  of  the  Dred  Scott  decision  that 
'negroes  have  no  rights  that  we  are  bound  to  respect.'  Truly, 
then,  has  that  African  Adam,  in  his  attempt  at  the  forbidden 
fruit  of  freedom,  brought  worse  than  sin  and  death  to  the  negro 
race."  Burton  further  asserted  that,  "under  existing  law,  the 
court  was  bound  to  decide  that,  in  Kentucky,  a  free  negro  can 
acquire  no  property  in  a  slave";  that  the  proof  showed  that  at 
the  time  Joseph  Kyler  gave  the  bill  of  sale  for  Cynthia  it  was 
the  understanding  and  agreement  between  all  the  parties  that 
he  should  take  her  as  a  wife  only;  and  that  therefore  "he  ac- 
quired no  property  in  her  aside  from  her  comfort  and  society." 

Justice  Zachariah  Wheat  delivered  the  opinion  of  the  court. 
"We  do  not  deem  it  necessary,"  he  said,  "to  examine  or  com- 
ment upon  all  of  the  grounds  assumed  by  counsel  for  Steve 
and  Cynthia."  The  claim  for  exemption  from  debt  "mentioned 
in  the  executions  levied  upon  Cynthia,  must  turn  upon  the 
effect  of  the  deed  from  Joseph  Kyler  to  Steve."  This  deed  was 
"an  absolute  one  on  its  face,  and  passed  the  title  in  Cynthia 
to  Steve  and  by  the  laws  of  Kentucky  slaves  are  subject  to  exe- 
cution for  the  debts  of  the  owner  just  as  any  other  personal 
property  is  subject." 

"Marriages  between  slaves  have  no  legal  effect,"  said  Judge 
Wheat,  "and  marriages  between  free  negroes  and  slaves  are  not 


STORM  CLOUDS  223 

recognized  except  to  a  very  limited  extent.  Upon  an  exhaustive 
examination  of  the  record,"  concluded  the  learned  jurist,  "we 
have  been  unable  to  perceive  any  error  to  the  prejudice  of 
appellants,  wherefore  the  judgment  of  the  Circuit  Court  is  af- 
firmed."16 

On  May  29,  1856,  the  Republican  party  in  Illinois  came 
into  existence  at  the  Bloomington  state  convention,  and  Lin- 
coln, cutting  loose  his  old  moorings,  made  his  famous  "Lost 
Speech"  which  so  captivated  the  audience  that  the  reporters 
forgot  to  take  it  down. 

In  June  the  national  Republican  convention  at  Philadelphia 
that  nominated  John  C.  Fremont  for  President  gave  Lincoln 
110  votes  for  Vice-President.  With  his  political  affiliation  now 
firmly  established,  Lincoln  vigorously  canvassed  the  state  for 
Fremont  until  James  Buchanan  on  the  Democratic  ticket  de- 
feated both  the  Republican  candidate  and  Millard  Fillmore, 
nominee  of  the  Know-Nothing  party,  at  the  polls  in  November. 

Soon  after  the  election  Mary  Lincoln  wrote  "Little  Sister" 
Emilie,  who  recently  had  married  Ben  Hardin  Helm  of  Eliza- 
bethtown,  son  of  former  governor  John  L.  Helm,  president 
of  the  Louisville  &  Nashville  Railroad.  Young  Helm  had  re- 
signed from  the  army  a  few  years  after  his  graduation  from 
West  Point,  had  studied  law  at  Harvard,  returned  to  Kentucky, 
and  entered  politics,  and  had  just  been  elected  commonwealth's 
attorney  for  his  judicial  district. 

Mary's  letter  dated  November  23,  1856,  thanked  Emilie  for 
her  recent  letter.  She  was  always  glad  to  hear  from  her  even 
if  she  did  not  reply  promptly.  "So,  remember  dear  E.— when 
you  desire  to  be  particularly  acceptable,  sit  thee  down  &  write 
me  one  of  your  agreeable  missives  &  do  not  wait  for  a  return 
of  each,  from  a  staid  matron  &  moreover  the  mother  of  three 
noisy  boys."  Mary  referred  to  the  fact  that  Emilie's  husband, 
"like  some  of  the  rest  of  us,  has  a  great  taste  for  politics,"  and 
spoke  of  the  "late  contest"  which  resulted  much  as  she  had 
"expected,  not  hoped." 


224  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

"Although  Mr.  L.  is,  or  was,  a  Fremont  man,"  she  explained, 
"you  must  not  include  him  with  so  many  of  those  who  belong 
to  that  party,  an  Abolitionist.  In  principle  he  is  far  from  it. 
All  he  desires  is  that  slavery  shall  not  be  extended,  let  it  remain 
where  it  is.  My  weak  woman's  heart  was  too  Southern  in  feeling 
to  sympathize  with  any  but  Fillmore.  I  have  always  been  his 
great  admirer;  he  made  so  good  a  President  &  is  so  just  a  man 
&  feels  the  necessity  of  keeping  foreigners  within  bounds." 

Then,  without  premonition  as  to  who  the  presidential  can- 
didates of  1860  would  be,  Mary  told  Emilie:  "If  some  of  your 
Kentuckians  had  to  deal  with  the  'wild  Irish'  as  we  housekeep- 
ers are  sometimes  called  upon  to  do,  the  South  would  certainly 
elect  Mr.  Fillmore  next  time." 

All  the  relatives  in  Springfield  were  well.  She  was  "very 
sorry  to  hear  that  our  mother  is  so  frequently  indisposed"  and 
hoped  "she  has  recovered  from  her  lameness." 

After  relating  all  the  social  news  which  would  be  of  interest 
to  Emilie,  Mary  concluded:  "If  you  do  not  bring  yourself  k 
husband  to  see  us  very  soon,  we  will  think  you  are  not  as  proud 
of  him  as  rumor  says  you  should  be."17 

Nearly  three  months  later  Mary  wrote  Emilie  again.  Spring- 
field society  was  in  a  whirl.  "Within  the  last  3  weeks,  there  has 
been  a  party  almost  every  night  &  some  two  or  three  grand 
fetes  are  coming  off  this  week.  I  may  perhaps  surprise  you, 
when  I  mention  that  I  am  recovering  from  the  slight  fatigue 
of  a  very  large  &  I  really  believe  a  very  handsome  &  agreeable 
entertainment,  at  least  our  friends  flatter  us  by  saying  so." 

She  told  Emilie  that  she  thought  of  her  frequently  the  other 
evening  at  Governor  Bissell's  party,  when  she  saw  "so  many  of 
your  acquaintances,  beautifully  dressed  &  dancing  away  very 
happily."  Lots  of  inquiries  were  made  about  her  "by  both 
Beaux  &  Belles."  Mary  hoped  that  next  winter  her  half  sister 
Elodie,  whom  she  called  "Dedee,"  and  Kitty,  another  half  sister, 
would  visit  her— "we  will  endeavor  to  make  it  as  pleasant  as 
possible  for  them."18 

In  another  letter,  dated  September  20,  1857,  Mary  wrote 
Emilie  that  she  was  very  anxious  to  hear  from  her.    She  said 


STORM  CLOUDS  225 

that  Lincoln  had  heard  from  a  friend  in  Chicago  "gentle  in- 
sinuations" which  made  her  think  that  by  now  Emilie  was  "a 
happy,  laughing,  loving  mama." 

A  portion  of  the  summer  had  been  spent  by  the  Lincolns 
"most  pleasantly  in  travelling  East;  we  visited  Niagara,  Canada, 
New  York  &  other  points  of  interest.  When  I  saw  the  large 
steamers  at  the  New  York  landing,  ready  for  their  European 
voyage,  I  felt  in  my  heart  inclined  to  sigh,  that  poverty  was 
my  portion,  how  I  long  to  go  to  Europe.  I  often  laugh  &  tell 
Mr.  L.  that  I  am  determined  my  next  husband  shall  be  rich." 

Then  she  gave  Emilie  an  account  of  the  doings  of  relatives 
and  closed,  "when  you  read  this,  like  a  good  sister,  sit  down  & 
write  me  a  good  long  letter,  all  about  yourself.  Mr.  L.  is  not 
at  home,  this  makes  the  fourth  week  he  has  been  in  Chicago."19 

When  the  senatorial  campaign  of  1858  rolled  around,  Lin- 
coln's reputation  was  no  longer  bounded  by  the  borders  of 
Illinois.  It  had  passed  beyond  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  on 
the  south  and  west  and  was  spreading  rapidly  eastward  over 
the  Alleghenies.  Senator  Douglas  was,  of  course,  the  overwhelm- 
ing choice  of  the  Illinois  Democrats  for  re-election,  and  it  was 
inevitable  that  Lincoln  should  be  his  opponent. 

On  June  16,  1858,  the  state  Republican  convention  met 
at  Springfield  and  resolved  by  acclamation  that  "Abraham  Lin- 
coln is  the  first  and  only  choice  of  the  Republicans  of  Illinois 
for  the  United  States  Senate  as  the  successor  of  Stephen  A. 
Douglas."  Accepting  the  nomination,  Lincoln  reiterated  the 
matured  conviction  which  he  had  expressed  three  years  before 
to  Judge  Robertson  of  Lexington:  '  'A  house  divided  against 
itself  cannot  stand,'  "  he  solemnly  announced.  "I  believe  this 
government  cannot  endure,  permanently  half  slave  and  half 
free.  I  do  not  expect  the  Union  to  be  dissolved— I  do  not  ex- 
pect the  house  to  fall— but  I  do  expect  it  will  cease  to  be  divided. 
It  will  become  all  one  thing,  or  all  the  other."20  The  memorable 
battle  was  on,  and  Lincoln  had  started  on  his  tortuous,  tragic 
road  to  martyrdom. 

The  fortunes  of  the  two  political  adversaries  had  run  a 


226  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

strange  parallel  and  were  destined  to  continue  so  to  the  very 
end.  Both  were  born  in  poverty:  Douglas,  in  Vermont;  Lin- 
coln, in  Kentucky.  Douglas  in  his  youth  was  a  cabinetmaker; 
Lincoln,  a  rail  splitter.  Both  were  members  of  the  Illinois  legis- 
lature in  1836.  They  had  been  admitted  to  the  bar  of  the  state 
supreme  court  in  the  same  year;  they  had  been  rivals  for  the 
hand  of  the  vivacious  Mary  Todd.  In  1847  both  were  members 
of  Congress— Douglass  in  the  Senate,  Lincoln  in  the  House  of 
Representatives— and  now  they  were  opposing  candidates  for 
the  highest  office  within  the  gift  of  the  state. 

Yet  they  were  as  different  in  every  possible  way  as  two  men 
could  be.  Douglas  was  five  feet  four  inches  in  height,  stockily 
built,  with  broad  shoulders,  deep  chest,  massive  head,  and 
strongly  marked  features.  Sturdy,  graceful,  resourceful,  fearless, 
he  was  known  to  thousands  by  the  admiring  sobriquet  of  'Tittle 
Giant,"  and  the  title  fitted  him  well.  A  man  of  tireless  energy, 
a  debater  of  singular  skill,  a  master  of  subtle  sophistry,  Douglas 
was  now  the  most  widely  known  and  heartily  feared  stump 
speaker  in  public  life. 

Lincoln  stood  six  feet  four  inches  in  his  shoes.  He  was  lean 
of  flesh,  ungainly  in  physique,  and  awkward  in  movement.  His 
power  as  a  public  speaker  lay  in  fairness  of  statement,  quaint 
originality  and  aptness  of  phrase,  earnestness  which  on  occasion 
rose  to  the  heights  of  classic  eloquence,  a  keen,  slashing  logic 
that  cut  to  the  very  heart  of  a  proposition,  and  an  unfailing 
good  humor  which  put  the  irritable  Douglas  to  disadvantage 
more  than  once  during  the  canvass. 

The  campaign  had  hardly  started  when  the  Douglas  news- 
papers began  to  charge  Lincoln  with  violating  the  ethics  of  the 
stump  by  following  their  candidate  and  taking  advantage  of 
his  crowds.   The  Chicago  Times  on  July  30  complained: 

Abe  Lincoln,  the  candidate  of  all  the  Republicans,  wants  an 
audience.  He  came  to  Chicago  and  declared  it  impossible  for  him 
to  get  the  people  to  turn  out  to  hear  him  and  then  it  was  resolved 
to  try  and  get  him  a  chance  to  speak  to  the  crowds  drawn  up  to 
meet  and  welcome  Douglas.    That  proposition  was  partially  de- 


STORM  CLOUDS  227 

dined  and  another  substituted;  but  yet  the  cringing,  crawling 
creature  is  hanging  at  the  outskirts  of  Douglas  meetings,  begging 
the  people  to  come  and  hear  him.  .  .  .  He  went  yesterday  to  Monti- 
cello  in  Douglas'  train;  poor  desperate  creature,  he  wants  an  audi- 
ence; poor,  unhappy  mortal,  the  people  won't  turn  out  to  hear 
him  and  he  must  do  something,  even  if  that  something  is  mean, 
sneaking  and  disreputable. 

The  evident  purpose  of  these  attacks  was  to  ridicule  Lincoln 
off  the  hustings.  Undoubtedly  Douglas  appeared  to  better  ad- 
vantage when  his  tall,  lank  opponent  was  not  present.  But 
Lincoln's  only  reply  to  the  venomous  tirade  of  his  enemies 
was  a  point-blank  challenge  to  joint  debate  which  he  had  sent 
to  Douglas  on  July  24.  To  this  communication  Douglas  re- 
sponded on  the  same  day  in  a  long,  peevish  letter.  He  declined 
to  make  a  joint  canvass  of  the  entire  state,  but  grudgingly  con- 
sented to  meet  Lincoln  at  places  which  he  designated  in  seven 
congressional  districts.  Lincoln  closed  the  negotiations  on  July 
31  by  accepting  these  terms,  although  he  pointed  out  that 
Douglas  took  four  openings  and  closings  to  his  three. 

The  announcement  of  the  joint  discussion  created  much 
excitement  in  Illinois  and  aroused  widespread  interest  through- 
out the  country.  The  partisans  of  Douglas  greeted  the  news 
joyously,  and  his  newspapers  described  at  great  length  the  fine 
spectacle  of  the  "Little  Giant  chawing  up  old  Abe"  which  was 
in  store  for  the  public.  Many  of  Lincoln's  friends  were  filled 
with  forebodings,  so  great  was  the  fame  of  his  adversary. 

I  had  thought  until  recently  that  the  Little  Giant  was  dead  in 
Illinois  until  I  saw  the  speech  of  Mr.  Lincoln  made  to  the  Repub- 
lican convention  in  Springfield  [wrote  a  resident  of  Bloomington 
to  Senator  Crittenden  of  Kentucky].  You  have  I  suppose  seen  it, 
"A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand,  the  Union  must  be 
all  Slave  or  all  free."  ...  I  do  not  believe  that  there  is  any  Western 
state  that  can  upon  a  fair  canvass  be  brought  to  endure  the  senti- 
ments of  that  Springfield  speech.  It  is  abolition  and  disunion  so 
absolutely  expressed  that  it  should  be  made  to  burn  Mr.  Lincoln 
as  long  as  he  lives.   No  skillful  dodging  should  ever  be  allowed  to 


228  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

shield  him.  The  Little  Giant  will  I  trust  brand  it  upon  him  in 
every  county  in  the  state  and  you  may  expect  to  hear  of  such  a 
canvass  in  Illinois  as  will  equal  in  excitement  and  interest  the  bat- 
tles of  the  giants  in  the  days  of  yore.21 

However,  the  Little  Giant  himself  had  no  illusions  about 
his  old  rival.  He  knew  right  well  the  nature  of  the  task  before 
him.  He  was  not  unmindful  of  other  occasions  when  his  plau- 
sible sophistry  had  been  impaled  upon  the  keen  point  of  Lin- 
coln's inexorable  logic.  "Of  all  the  damned  Whig  rascals  about 
Springfield,"  remarked  Douglas,  "Abe  Lincoln  is  the  ablest  and 
honestest." 

From  the  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  which  still  came 
regularly  to  the  Lincoln  home,  it  was  painfully  apparent  that 
the  old  Whigs  of  the  South  were  almost  unanimously  for  the 
Democratic  candidate.  When  the  challenge  to  Douglas  ap- 
peared in  the  Kentucky  newspaper,  Alexander  H.  Stephens  of 
Georgia,  later  vice-president  of  the  Confederacy,  was  spending 
his  vacation  in  Lexington.  He  and  Lincoln  had  been  friends 
and  stanch  political  allies  in  the  Thirtieth  Congress,  and  on 
February  2,  1848,  Lincoln  had  written  Herndon,  his  law  part- 
ner, "I  just  take  up  my  pen  to  say,  that  Mr.  Stephens  of  Georgia, 
a  little,  slim,  pale-faced,  consumptive  man,  with  a  voice  like 
Logan's  has  just  concluded  the  very  best  speech,  of  an  hour's 
length,  I  ever  heard.  My  old,  withered,  dry  eyes,  are  full  of 
tears  yet."22 

For  years  Stephens  had  been  one  of  the  bulwarks  of  the 
Whig  party  in  the  South,  but  now  he  emphatically  informed 
the  Observer  that  he  was  "in  favor  of  the  reelection  to  the 
Senate  of  Judge  Douglas."23  And  the  once  rock-ribbed  Whig 
editor  himself  exclaimed,  "Can  any  of  our  Democratic  con- 
temporaries explain  to  us  why  it  is  that  the  President  and  his 
special  organs  oppose  the  reelection  of  Douglas  to  the  Senate? 
He  has  no  opponent  but  Abe  Lincoln,  who  is  an  out  and  out 
Black  Republican.  Does  the  Administration  desire  the  success 
of  Lincoln  over  Douglas?"24 

Between  August  21   and   October    15,    1858,   Lincoln  and 


STORM  CLOUDS  229 

Douglas  met  at  Ottawa,  Freeport,  Jonesboro,  Charleston,  Gales- 
burg,  Quincy,  and  Alton  in  the  most  stirring  and  important 
series  of  political  discussions  ever  held  in  the  United  States. 
It  was  at  Freeport  that  Douglas  made  his  fatal  answer  to  a 
question  propounded  to  him  by  Lincoln,  which,  although  it 
won  him  the  senatorship,  lost  him  the  Presidency  two  years 
later. 

The  northern  and  southern  Democrats  were  in  accord  on 
the  proposition  that  Congress  had  no  control  over  slavery  in 
the  territories.  They  were  divided,  however,  on  the  right  of 
the  citizens  of  these  territories  to  exclude  the  institution  prior 
to  admission  as  a  state.  And  into  this  crevice  in  the  timbers 
of  the  Democratic  party  Lincoln  drove  a  wedge  with  all  the 
force  and  skill  of  his  rail-splitting  days.  The  question  that  he 
framed  was:  "Can  the  people  of  the  United  States  Territory 
in  any  lawful  way,  against  the  wish  of  any  citizen  of  the  United 
States,  exclude  slavery  from  its  limits  prior  to  the  formation 
of  a  state  constitution?" 

Just  before  the  debate  Lincoln  consulted  several  friends 
as  to  the  advisability  of  asking  Douglas  this  question.  All  were 
strongly  against  it,  saying  that  the  Little  Giant  was  sure  to 
answer  in  the  affirmative  and  thus  secure  his  re-election,  this 
view  of  the  question  being  the  popular  one  in  Illinois.  Lincoln 
replied  that  such  an  answer  from  Douglas  was  exactly  what  he 
wanted,  inasmuch  as  his  main  object  was  to  make  it  impossible 
for  him  to  obtain  the  votes  of  the  southern  states  at  the  next 
presidential  election.  "The  battle  of  1860  is  worth  a  hundred 
of  this,"  he  said.25 

And  when  Lincoln  at  Freeport  put  the  question,  Douglas 
with  much  bombast  and  assurance  answered  it  in  the  affirma- 
tive. Of  course  the  people  of  the  territory  could  keep  slavery 
out  by  what  he  termed  "police  or  unfriendly  legislation."  The 
answer  was  hailed  with  delight  and  applause  by  the  Illinois 
Democrats,  but  as  Lincoln  had  prophesied,  the  South  was  lost 
to  Douglas  forever.26 

Through  the  columns  of  the  Lexington  newspaper  Lincoln 


230  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

saw  an  accurate  and  immediate  reflection  of  southern  opinion 
on  Douglas'  answer.  "There  is  precious  little  difference  be- 
tween these  gentlemen,  so  far  as  the  present  aspect  of  the  slavery 
question  is  concerned,"  said  the  Observer.  "The  only  differ- 
ence we  can  see  between  the  positions  of  Mr.  Lincoln  and  Judge 
Douglas  is  that,  while  the  former  acknowledges  himself  a  free- 
soiler  and  declares  his  opposition  to  any  further  extension  of 
slavery,  the  latter  claims  to  be  a  Democrat,  but  avows  himself 
in  favor  of  principles,  the  inevitable  tendency  of  which  is  to 
exclude  slavery  from  every  foot  of  Territory  possessed  by  the 
Government.  .  .  .  The  present  contest  in  Illinois  and  the  dis- 
closures it  has  made  ought  to  be  sufficient  to  teach  the  South 
a  lesson  in  regard  to  hypocritical  professions."27 

Throughout  the  joint  canvass  Judge  Douglas  sought  to 
create  the  impression  that  Lincoln  was  in  favor  of  Negro 
equality.  "I  do  not  question  Mr.  Lincoln's  conscientious  be- 
lief that  the  negro  was  made  his  equal  and  hence  his  brother," 
said  the  Judge,  "but  for  my  own  part,  I  do  not  regard  the  negro 
my  equal,  and  positively  deny  that  he  is  my  brother,  or  any 
kin  to  me  whatever."  Lincoln,  however,  defended  himself  on 
this  point  in  clear  and  convincing  language: 

Anything  that  argues  me  into  his  idea  of  perfect  social  and  po- 
litical equality  with  the  negro,  is  but  a  specious  and  fantastic  ar- 
rangement of  words,  by  which  a  man  can  prove  a  horse  chestnut 
to  be  a  chestnut  horse.  ...  I  have  no  purpose  to  introduce  po- 
litical and  social  equality  between  the  white  and  the  black  races. 
There  is  a  physical  difference  between  the  two,  which  in  my  judg- 
ment will  probably  forever  forbid  their  living  together  upon  the 
footing  of  perfect  equality,  and  inasmuch  as  it  becomes  a  necessity 
that  there  must  be  a  difference,  I,  as  well  as  Judge  Douglas,  am  in 
favor  of  the  race  to  which  I  belong,  having  the  superior  position. 
I  have  never  said  anything  to  the  contrary,  but  I  hold  that  not- 
withstanding all  this,  there  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  the  negro 
is  not  entitled  to  all  the  natural  rights  enumerated  in  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,  the  right  to  life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of 
happiness.  I  hold  that  he  is  as  much  entitled  to  these  as  the  white 
man.    I  agree  with  Judge  Douglas  he  is  not  my  equal  in  many  re- 


STORM   CLOUDS  231 

spects— certainly  not  in  color,  perhaps  not  in  moral  or  intellectual 
endowment.  But  in  the  right  to  eat  the  bread,  without  leave  of 
anybody  else,  which  his  own  hand  earns,  he  is  my  equal  and  the 
equal  of  Judge  Douglas,  and  the  equal  of  every  living  man.28 

The  setting  of  the  encounter  at  Charleston,  although  quite 
typical  of  all  the  others,  was  perhaps  the  most  elaborate.  On 
the  evening  before  the  debate  the  little  town  was  in  holiday 
attire,  with  its  public  buildings  and  streets  decorated  with  flags 
and  banners,  while  the  hotels  were  crowded  to  overflowing 
with  visitors.  Both  Lincoln  and  Douglass  spent  the  night  at 
Mattoon,  ten  miles  away,  from  which  they  were  escorted  next 
morning  by  parallel  roads  to  Charleston.  Douglas  was  im- 
mensely popular  in  this  section  of  the  state,  which  was  strongly 
Democratic,  while  Lincoln,  whose  aged  stepmother  lived  a  few 
miles  out  of  town,  also  had  many  stanch  friends. 

The  Lincoln  procession  was  led  by  a  brass  band  from  Indi- 
ana. A  large  wagon  following  his  carriage  was  filled  with 
thirty-one  young  ladies,  each  representing  a  state,  and  bore 
the  following  motto: 

Westward  the  Star  of  Empire  takes  its  way, 
Thy  girls  Link-on  to  Lincoln, 
Their  mothers  were  for  Clay. 

Riding  alone  behind  the  wagon  was  a  girl  on  horseback,  rep- 
resenting Kansas,  with  a  banner  inscribed:  "Kansas  will  be 
free."  Another  banner  read:  "Support  Abraham  Lincoln,  the 
defender  of  Henry  Clay." 

On  the  outskirts  of  Charleston  a  large  enthusiastic  crowd 
met  the  procession  and  escorted  the  dusty  cavalcade  to  the 
Capitol  Hotel.  A  huge  banner  stretched  across  the  street  from 
the  hotel  to  the  courthouse  bore  a  sketch  of  an  emigrant  wagon 
and  two  yoke  of  oxen  driven  by  a  tall  youth,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion at  the  top:  "Abe's  entrance  into  Charleston  thirty  years 
ago."  On  another  large  piece  of  canvas  a  diminutive  Lincoln 
smote  a  mighty  Douglas  with  a  club— the  Little  Giant  was 
helpless  before  the  savage  onslaught  of  "Abe,  the  Giant  Killer." 


232  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

In  front  of  the  hotel  the  reception  ceremony  took  place  in 
what  the  Lincoln  newspapers  described  as  "the  finest  and  most 
impressive  style."  The  chairman  made  a  neat  speech  of  wel- 
come, to  which  "Mr.  Lincoln  responded  in  a  few  remarks, 
well  timed  and  to  the  point." 

The  Douglas  procession  was  even  more  imposing.  It  con- 
sisted of  large  delegations  from  different  counties,  headed  by 
thirty-two  young  women  on  horseback,  each  carrying  the  na- 
tional colors.  On  reaching  Charleston,  the  procession,  two  and 
a  half  miles  long,  marched  proudly  under  a  banner  inscribed 
"Welcome,  Douglas,"  and  another  with  a  caricature  of  a  white 
man  with  a  Negro  woman  and  a  mulatto  boy  standing  beside 
him,  inscribed  beneath,  "Negro  Equality."  Douglas  was  carried 
in  triumph  to  his  hotel,  where  a  reception  committee  met  him 
with  warm  greetings.29 

At  half  past  two  o'clock  the  speaking  began  at  the  fair 
grounds,  three  quarters  of  a  mile  west  of  town.  Here  before 
an  immense  throng  Lincoln  denounced  the  Kansas-Nebraska 
Bill  and  the  conspiracy  to  extend  slavery  into  the  territories. 
He  reiterated  his  views  on  slavery  and  his  denial  that  he  favored 
Negro  equality.  He  repeated  that  he  was  not,  and  had  never 
been,  in  favor  of  "bringing  about  in  any  way  the  social  and 
political  equality  of  the  white  and  black  races,  .  .  .  nor  ...  of 
making  voters  or  jurors  of  negroes,  nor  of  qualifying  them  to 
hold  office,  nor  to  intermarry  with  white  people."  He  closed 
this  part  of  his  speech  by  saying,  "I  do  not  perceive  that  be- 
cause the  white  man  is  to  have  the  superior  position  the  negro 
should  be  denied  everything.  I  do  not  understand  that  because 
I  do  not  want  a  negro  woman  for  a  slave  I  must  necessarily 
want  her  for  a  wife.  My  understanding  is  that  I  can  just  let 
her  alone."30 

After  the  Freeport  debate,  where  Douglas  announced  his 
fatal  theory  of  "unfriendly"  legislation  against  slavery  in  the 
territories,  the  Lexington  newspapers  viewed  the  campaign  in 
Illinois  with  detached  interest.  They  continued,  however,  to 
publish  rather   extensive   accounts  of  the  joint  canvass.    On 


STORM  CLOUDS  233 

October  9  the  Observer  said  that  a  recent  visitor  to  Illinois 
reported:  "There  is  no  comparison  between  Douglas  and  Lin- 
coln as  debaters— the  former  being  far  superior  to  the  latter. 
The  Republicans  however,"  added  the  Observer,  "are  as  well 
satisfied  with  their  candidate  as  the  Democrats  with  theirs  and 
the  full  vote  of  both  parties  will  be  polled."  Now  and  then 
both  the  Observer  and  the  Statesman  referred  in  humorous  vein 
to  "Mr.  Lincoln's  broadsword  exploit  with  General  Shields." 

On  the  day  of  the  last  joint  debate  at  Alton,  Gustave  Koer- 
ner,  now  practicing  law  at  Belleville,  Illinois,  arrived  early  in 
the  morning  and  found  Lincoln  in  the  hotel  sitting  room. 
"He  at  once  said,"  related  Koerner  in  his  Memoirs  "  'Let  us 
go  up  and  see  Mary.'  I  had  not  seen  Mrs.  Lincoln,  that  I  recol- 
lected, since  meeting  her  at  the  Lexington  parties  when  she 
was  Miss  Todd.  'Now  tell  Mary  what  you  think  of  our  chances. 
She  is  rather  dispirited.'  I  was  certain,  I  said,  of  our  carrying 
the  state  and  tolerably  certain  of  carrying  the  Legislature."31 

The  speaking  began  at  two  o'clock  on  the  public  square. 
Douglas'  voice  was  scarcely  audible.  Hoarse,  irritated,  baffled, 
worn  out,  he  was  not  the  suave,  patronizing  Little  Giant  who 
had  faced  the  vast  audience  at  Ottawa  with  careless  and  au- 
dacious mien.  On  the  other  hand,  the  high-pitched  voice  of 
Lincoln  had  suffered  little  from  the  seven  debates  and  the 
long  campaign.  Lean,  inured  to  physical  hardships,  and  of 
abstemious  habits,  he  had  stood  the  grueling  contest  far  better 
than  his  portly,  pleasure-loving  opponent.  That  his  good  humor 
had  not  deserted  him  is  also  indicated  by  the  fact  that  as  Doug- 
las concluded  his  remarks,  Lincoln  handed  his  old  linen  duster 
to  a  young  lady  with  whom  he  had  been  engaged  in  conver- 
sation, saying  in  his  droll  way,  "Now  hold  my  coat,  while  I 
stone  Stephen." 

At  the  close  of  the  joint  discussions,  after  short  individual 
speeches  in  a  few  crucial  areas,  Lincoln  returned  to  Springfield 
to  await  the  election.  He  had  met  the  ablest  gladiator  in  the 
political  arena  and,  against  many  odds,  had  more  than  held 
his  own.    Wealth  and  influence  had  opposed  him.    He  had 


234  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

traveled  over  the  state  in  day  coaches  and  on  freight  trains, 
while  Douglas  was  escorted  by  the  vice-president  of  the  Illinois 
Central  in  the  directors'  car  attached  to  a  gaily  decorated  special 
train  that  carried  a  brass  cannon  which  fired  salutes  at  the 
various  stopping  places. 

Though  the  debates  were  over,  the  battle  furiously  con- 
tinued as  election  day  approached.  The  Democrats  were  as 
resourceful  as  they  were  "unterrified,"  and  now  they  suddenly 
unmasked  a  battery  which  raked  the  Republicans  from  an 
unexpected  quarter.  Letters  endorsing  Douglas  over  Lincoln 
from  three  of  Mary  Todd's  earliest  friends  back  home— John 
J.  Crittenden,  United  States  senator;  John  C.  Breckinridge, 
Vice-President;  and  James  B.  Clay,  son  of  Henry  Clay,  con- 
gressman from  the  Lexington  district— were  circulated  from 
the  stump  and  through  the  press. 

All  through  the  campaign  Lincoln  had  made  effective  use 
of  Douglas'  estrangement  from  the  administration  at  Washing- 
ton. He  himself  had  been  looked  upon  as  the  defender  of 
Henry  Clay  and  his  principles,  and  had  vigorously  contended 
that  the  Whigs  utterly  condemned  the  policies  of  his  opponent. 
In  this  way  thousands  of  voters  had  been  alienated  from  Douglas 
and  the  Whigs  kept  in  line. 

Now  overnight  the  situation  changed.  The  Democratic 
organs  loudly  proclaimed  the  intense  yearning  of  the  adminis- 
tration for  the  re-election  of  Douglas  and  published  Breckin- 
ridge's letter  as  proof  of  the  fact.  They  ridiculed  the  claim 
that  Douglas  was  hostile  to  the  great  policies  of  Henry  Clay 
and  pointed  to  the  communication  from  his  own  son.  They 
condemned  in  glaring  headlines  the  "Lincoln  lies"  that  the 
majority  of  Lincoln's  old  party  would  support  him  against  the 
Little  Giant  and  cited  Senator  Crittenden  as  a  conspicuous 
example  of  the  Whig  defection  to  Douglas.  "While  Lincoln 
and  his  black  republican  associates  are  appealing  to  old  whigs, 
and  to  whig  memories,"  said  the  Illinois  State  Register,,  "to 
sustain  and  forward  the  interests  of  a  'contemptible  abolition 
party'  of  to-day,  the  great  living  representative  of  Clay  and  of 


STORM  CLOUDS  235 

his  party  is  lavish  in  his  commendation  of  Mr.  Douglas,  whom 
Lincoln  would  supplant."32 

This  sudden  and  adroit  onset  of  the  Democrats  threw  the 
Republicans  into  "spasmodic  convulsions."  Lincoln  was  ap- 
parently the  only  person  who  had  foreseen  the  possibility  of 
intervention  from  Kentucky,  and  he  had  tried  his  utmost  to 
forestall  it.  Early  in  July  he  had  written  Senator  Crittenden 
asking  him  to  take  no  part  in  the  approaching  campaign  which 
would  offend  his  friends  in  Illinois.  "Nor  am  I  fishing  for  a 
letter  on  the  other  side,"  he  said,  "even  if  such  could  be  had, 
my  judgment  is  that  you  would  better  be  hands  off!"33 

Crittenden  had  promptly  replied.  He  called  attention  to 
the  fact  that  he  and  Douglas  in  the  last  session  of  Congress  had 
acted  together  in  opposing  certain  administration  measures; 
had  my  warm  approbation  and  sympathy— and,  when  it  was 
understood,  that,  for  the  very  course  of  conduct,  in  which  I  had 
that  the  position  which  Douglas  took  was  full  of  sacrifice,  yet 
he  defended  it  "like  a  man."  "For  this,"  said  Crittenden,  "he 
concurred  &  participated,  the  angry  power  of  the  Administra- 
tion &  its  party  was  to  be  employed  to  defeat  his  re-election  to 
the  Senate,  ...  I  could  not  but  wish  for  his  success— and  his 
triumph  over  such  a  persecution.  ...  I  must  confess  that  I 
still  entertain  [these  sentiments],  &  what  ever  I  do,  must  cor- 
respond with  them."  But  he  added  that  his  position  "most 
certainly,  did  not  include  a  single  particle  of  personal  unkind- 
ness  or  opposition"  to  the  Whig  candidate.34  Keenly  disap- 
pointed at  Crittenden's  attitude,  Lincoln  showed  this  letter  to 
no  other  person  except  Herndon,  but  in  spite  of  their  efforts 
at  secrecy,  the  news  leaked  out  that  he  had  received  some  sort 
of  communication  from  the  Kentucky  senator.35 

Taken  by  surprise  and  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  the 
Illinois  State  Journal  blunderingly  denounced  Crittenden's  en- 
dorsement of  Judge  Douglas  as  a  "forgery  .  .  .  concealed  from 
the  people  until  just  before  the  election  and  when  it  is  too 
late  for  Mr.  Crittenden  to  expose  it."  To  make  matters  worse, 
the  Journal  announced  that  Crittenden  had  written  a  letter  to 
a  prominent  citizen  in  Springfield  in  which  he  expressed  "him- 


236  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

self  heartily  in  favor  of  the  triumph  of  the  united  opposition 
against  Douglas,  and  bids  them  God  speed  in  the  good  work." 
The  Register  promptly  charged  that  the  "prominent  citizen" 
alluded  to  was  none  other  than  Lincoln  himself.  "Who  will 
believe  that  if  such  letter  shows  Mr.  Crittenden  'heartily  in 
favor  of  the  united  opposition  against  Douglas,'  that  the  Journal 
would  not  have  long  since  paraded  it!  On  the  contrary,  that 
letter  expresses  no  such  thing,  but  gives  Mr.  Abraham  Lincoln 
a  cold  bath.  .  .  .  Will  Mr.  Lincoln,  through  the  Journal,  trot 
out  that  letter?" 

Pressing  their  advantage,  the  Democrats  immediately  tele- 
graphed Crittenden  asking  him  whether,  as  stated  by  the  Jour- 
nal, he  had  written  a  letter  endorsing  Lincoln,  and  the  Ken- 
tucky senator  wired  back:  "I  have  written  no  such  letter." 
Thus  caught  in  a  precarious  situation,  Lincoln  and  the  Journal 
were  shelled  with  heavy  guns  by  the  Register  and  other  Douglas 
newspapers. 

We  have  no  doubt  the  Journal  editors  .  .  .  really  think  there  is  a 
cleverness,  a  "smartness,"  in  the  petty  larceny  tactics  which  they 
practice  [exclaimed  the  wrathy  Register] ,  but  what  can  be  thought 
by  honest  men  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  who  aspires  to  a  seat  in  the 
United  States  Senate,  winking  at  such  an  imposition,  sought  to  be 
put  upon  the  public  for  his  benefit,  when  he  had  in  his  pocket  the 
letter  from  Mr.  Crittenden  giving  the  lie  to  the  utterings  of  his 
organ,  issued  under  his  nose!  .  .  .  Was  there  ever  so  base,  so  grov- 
eling, an  effort  by  a  man  seeking  high  position,  and  asking  the 
suffrages  of  the  people?  Forgery!  Was  there  ever  a  more  con- 
temptible forgery  or  fraud  than  this  effort— this  despairing,  drown- 
ing effort  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  abolition  candidate  for  Senator?36 

While  the  controversy  went  fiercely  on,  Republicans  com- 
pleted preparations  for  their  closing  rally  at  Springfield.  Sat- 
urday, October  30,  dawned  clear  after  a  week  of  steady  rain. 
The  stores  and  public  buildings  in  the  vicinity  of  the  statehouse 
were  jauntily  arrayed  in  gay  bunting  and  flags  that  fluttered 
in  the  autumn  breeze.  By  ten  o'clock  the  county  delegates 
began  to  arrive  in  mud-bespattered  vehicles.  About  noon  a 
train  of  nine  cars  arrived  from  Jacksonville  and  other  inter- 


STORM  CLOUDS  237 

mediate  points,  followed  soon  afterward  by  a  double-header 
of  thirty-two  cars  over  the  Chicago  &  Alton,  festooned  with 
banners,  decorated  with  busts  of  Lincoln  and  Henry  Clay,  and 
inscribed:  "Abe  Lincoln,  our  next  Senator";  "A.  Lincoln,  the 
Pride  of  Illinois." 

At  two  o'clock  Lincoln  earnestly  but  rather  wearily  ad- 
dressed the  vast  audience  packed  about  the  speaker's  stand  on 
the  east  side  of  the  public  square.  "Today,"  he  said,  "closes 
the  discussions  of  this  canvass."  The  planting  being  over,  noth- 
ing remained  but  the  harvest.  He  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  re- 
sistance to  the  extension  of  slavery  had  been  his  sole  object. 

As  I  have  not  felt,  so  I  have  not  expressed  any  harsh  sentiment 
toward  our  Southern  bretheren.  I  have  constantly  declared,  as  I 
really  believed,  the  only  difference  between  them  and  us,  is  the 
difference  of  circumstances.  ...  In  some  respects  the  contest  has 
been  painful  to  me.  Myself,  and  those  with  whom  I  act  have  been 
constantly  accused  of  a  purpose  to  destroy  the  union;  and  bespat- 
tered with  every  imaginable  odious  epithet;  and  some  who  were 
friends,  as  it  were  but  yesterday,  have  made  themselves  most  active 
in  this.  I  have  cultivated  patience,  and  made  no  attempt  at  a  re- 
tort.37 

During  the  speech  a  well-dressed  man  mounted  on  a  proud 
horse  rode  up  close  to  the  stand.  "How  would  you  like  to  sleep 
with  a  nigger?"  he  yelled  to  Lincoln,  who  stopped  and  looked 
at  his  questioner  with  an  expression  of  pity  on  his  gaunt,  worn 
features.  Before  he  could  reply,  however,  a  gnarled,  grizzled 
prairie  farmer  took  a  huge  soggy  chew  of  tobacco  from  his 
mouth  and  flung  the  reeking  "quid"  full  into  the  horseman's 
face,  and  Lincoln  resumed  his  address  as  though  nothing  had 
happened.38  A  few  minutes  later  he  closed  his  remarks  in  the 
midst  of  tremendous  applause  and  waving  handkerchiefs  and 
banners. 

On  November  2,  in  a  heavy  downpour  of  rain,  the  state  of 
Illinois  waded  through  slop  and  mud  to  the  polls.  Within 
forty-eight  hours  Lincoln  knew  that  he  was  beaten.  He  had 
won  the  popular  vote,  but  lost  the  legislature  that  chose  the 
senator.    And  on  all  sides  the  Republicans  vociferously  pro- 


238  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

claimed  one  important  cause  of  their  leader's  defeat.  "Thou- 
sands of  Whigs  dropped  us  just  on  the  eve  of  the  election, 
through  the  influence  of  Crittenden,"  wrote  Lincoln's  law  part- 
ner to  a  friend  in  the  East.39  "Senator  Crittenden  is  entitled 
to  the  credit  of  defeating  Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  the  Chicago  Daily 
Democrat,  denouncing  the  senator  and  John  C.  Breckinridge 
in  strong  terms.    "Thus  was  Lincoln  slain  in  Old  Kentucky."40 

The  loss  of  the  election  was  a  bitter  blow  to  the  Lincolns— 
to  Mary  no  less  than  to  Lincoln  himself.  The  conviction  that 
the  friends  of  her  girlhood  had  contributed  largely  to  this  de- 
feat did  not  soothe  her  feelings.  Especially  was  this  so  as  to 
Crittenden— her  father's  lifelong  associate,  the  best  man  at  his 
wedding— whose  merry  banter  with  old  Nelson  as  he  mixed  the 
juleps  in  the  Todd  library  at  Lexington  lingered  vividly  in 
her  memory.  Crittenden,  the  man  of  whom  Lincoln  himself 
said,  "I  have  always  loved  with  an  affection  as  tender  and  as 
endearing  as  I  have  loved  any  man,"41  had  gone  out  of  his  way 
to  deal  her  husband  a  mortal  blow. 

Although  Mary  doubtless  spoke  her  mind  about  it  all  fre- 
quently and  with  caustic  emphasis,  Lincoln  bore  his  defeat 
calmly  and  without  complaint.  But  it  sank  deeply  into  his 
heart  none  the  less.  Alone  in  the  dimly  lighted,  uncarpeted 
law  office  he  lay  on  the  dilapidated  sofa,  gazing  gloomily 
through  dust-stained  windows  out  over  the  stable  roofs  and 
cluttered  back  yards.  On  the  long  pine  table  scarred  by  many 
a  jackknife  he  wrote  a  brief  letter  to  Senator  Crittenden:  "The 
emotions  of  defeat,  at  the  close  of  a  struggle  in  which  I  felt 
more  than  a  merely  selfish  interest,  and  to  which  defeat  the 
use  of  your  name  contributed  largely,  are  fresh  upon  me;  but, 
even  in  this  mood,  I  can  not  for  a  moment  suspect  you  of  any- 
thing dishonorable."42  To  a  friend  tried  and  true  he  also 
wrote,  "I  am  glad  I  made  the  late  race.  It  gave  me  a  hearing 
on  the  great  and  durable  question  of  the  age,  which  I  could 
have  had  in  no  other  way;  and  though  I  now  sink  out  of  view, 
and  shall  be  forgotten,  I  believe  I  have  made  some  marks  which 
will  tell  for  the  cause  of  civil  liberty  long  after  I  am  gone."43 


FIFTEEN 


Rebellion 


INOW  THAT  the  election  was  over,  Lincoln  went  back  to 
his  law  practice,  so  long  neglected  for  politics.  The  old  calendar 
of  the  United  States  District  Court  shows  him  filing  pleadings, 
arguing  motions,  taking  judgments,  and  trying  cases.  Frequent- 
ly he  won  and  again  he  lost,  but  he  was  busy. 

He  was  still  in  touch  with  friends  and  relatives  in  the  Blue- 
grass.  Deferred  payments  on  certain  real  estate  which  he  had 
sold  for  Robert  S.  Todd's  sister,  Maria  Bullock,  were  coming 
in  slowly,  and  early  in  January,  Lincoln  wrote  her  about  them: 

Springfield,   Ills. 
Jan.  3,  1859 
Dear  Aunt 

I  have  recently  had  two  letters  from  our  cousin  Charles  Carr, 
in  relation  to  your  business.  It  annoys  me  to  have  to  say  that  I 
can  not  collect  money  now.  I  now  believe  the  quickest  way  I  can 
get  your  money  is  for  me  to  buy  the  debts  of  you,  as  soon  as  I  can 
get  in  any  money  of  my  own  to  do  it  with.  I  keep  some  money 
loaned  at  ten  per  cent;  and  when  I  can  get  hold  of  some,  it  would 
be  a  ready  investment  for  me  to  just  take  these  debts  off  your  hands; 


240  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

and  I  shall  try  to  do  so.  I  think  it  will  be  better  all  round  than 
to  resort  to  the  law.  This  does  not  apply  to  the  small  debt  of 
eighty  odd  dollars,  upon  which  I  shall  sue  and  foreclose  the  mort- 
gage next  court.    All  well. 

Yours  as  ever, 
A.  Lincoln1 

Money  out  at  10  per  cent  was  not  bad  business.  It  was 
Lincoln's  policy  to  "keep  some"  lent  at  that  rate  of  interest. 
Yet,  in  order  that  Aunt  Maria  should  not  be  delayed  in  her 
collections  by  litigation,  Lincoln  proposed  to  call  in  his  own 
investments  yielding  10  per  cent  and  purchase  the  Bullock 
notes  bearing  only  6. 

Through  the  winter  Lincoln  remain  absorbed  in  private 
affairs,  but  it  was  soon  evident  that  the  public  had  not  forgotten 
him.  By  early  spring,  1859,  friends  were  urging  his  availability 
as  the  next  nominee  of  the  Republican  party  for  President  of 
the  United  States,  but  to  this  flattering  proposal  Lincoln  mod- 
estly replied:  "I  do  not  think  myself  fit  for  the  Presidency."2 
His  interest,  however,  in  the  "great  and  durable  question  of 
the  age"  had  not  abated,  and  he  had  followed  with  deepest 
sympathy  the  bloody  attempt  to  exclude  slavery  from  Kansas. 

One  morning  Billy  Herndon  brought  the  following  letter 
to  Lincoln's  desk. 

Paris  Hotel  General  Stage  Office 

G.  Talbutt,  Proprietor  Paris,  Kentucky 

Sept.  7,  1859 
Hon.  A.  Lincoln 

Sir  I  hope  you  are  well  and  Family  I  am  in  good  helth  but 
lean  recovering  from  Cough.  I  wish  you  to  collect  If  you  can  50 
Dollars  of  the  President  of  the  Agriculteral  Fare  at  Chigauger 
[Chicago]  Tillman  for  my  sirvesses  by  contrack  at  the  Agricl  Fare 
at  Richmond  Virgina  Last  fall  The  Pensilvany  and  baltimore 
fare  Maryl  Promtly  paid  ther  premium  I  spent  20  dollars  to  go 
to  Richmond  Ag  Fare  and  He  did  not  pay  the  contrack  He  is  a 
bad  man  sure  if  you  can  collect  it  you  may  take  half  of  the  monie 
for  pay     it  is  not  Twelve  monts  yet  sens  it  was  due     I  hope  you 


REBELLION  241 

remember  me  and  will  do  all  you  can  to  collect  it  you  will  favour 
me  with  answer  and  oblige  yours 

Denton  Offutt 
Gen.  Tilmann  Detor  to  Denton  Offutt  for  performance  on  horse 
Fifty  Dollars  50$ 
Oct  1858 
Richmond,  Vir.3 

General  Tench  Tilghman  of  Oxford,  Maryland,  was  president 
of  the  United  States  Agricultural  Society.  The  Richmond  fair 
was  the  sixth  annual  meeting  of  the  society,  and  Offutt  knew 
that  Tilghman  would  attend  the  next  meeting  in  Chicago. 

Offutt  had  just  returned  from  England,  broken  in  health, 
despite  his  assurance  to  the  contrary,  and  bitter  in  spirit 
from  his  failure  to  unseat  a  horse-taming  rival,  John  S.  Rarey, 
in  the  lofty  esteem  of  the  British  people. 

Rarey,  a  native  of  Ohio,  some  thirty  years  younger  than 
Offutt,  had  achieved  considerable  local  acclaim  during  the  past 
decade.  In  1857  he  had  so  impressed  Governor  Salmon  P. 
Chase  with  his  power  over  the  horse  that  the  Ohio  executive 
readily  gave  him  a  letter  of  recommendation  to  the  governor 
of  Canada.  A  single  exhibition  there  won  the  commendation 
of  civilian  personnel  of  the  government,  and  of  army  officers, 
who  urged  him  to  visit  England,  which  he  promptly  did. 

Following  his  first  performance  in  Liverpool,  Rarey's  fame 
had  spread  rapidly,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  had  given 
two  exhibitions  at  Windsor  Castle  before  Queen  Victoria  and 
a  select  group  of  admiring  royalty.  After  he  had  quickly  tamed 
Cruiser,  a  large,  black  stallion,  the  most  vicious  horse  in  Eng- 
land—a murderous  animal  that  was  said  to  have  bitten  an  iron 
bar  in  two  and  torn  chunks  of  brick  from  his  stall  with  his 
teeth— the  American's  conquest  of  the  British  Isles  was  com- 
plete.4 

Rarey's  courses  of  instruction  at  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
riding  school  were  eagerly  attended  at  high  tuition.  His  manual 
on  horse  taming  enjoyed  a  wide  and  ready  sale.    Becoming  a 


212  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

great  social  favorite,  he  was  warmly  sponsored  by  the  English 
novelist,  Robert  Smith  Surtees,  and  the  renowned  Robert 
Browning,  who  wrote  a  poem  about  him. 

Denton  Offutt  had  arrived  in  England  in  the  autumn  of 
1858  fortified  with  glowing  testimonials  of  eminent  people  from 
New  York,  Washington,  D.  C,  New  Orleans,  Memphis,  and 
famous  horse  breeders  of  central  Kentucky.5  He  was  fighting 
mad  and  firmly  resolved  to  challenge  and  expose  John  S.  Rarey 
before  the  equestrian  world  as  an  audacious  cribber  who  had 
brazenly  appropriated  the  vital  principles  of  Teaching  the 
Horse,  which  Offutt  had  published  in  1848  when  Rarey  was 
barely  out  of  his  teens. 

Armed  with  a  copy  of  his  rival's  manual  and  his  own  book, 
Offutt  visited  the  chief  cities  of  England,  speaking  to  large 
crowds,  comparing  the  two  books  paragraph  by  paragraph, 
roundly  denouncing  his  adversary,  and  performing  incredible 
feats  with  fractious  animals— but  leaving  the  stolid  Britishers 
firmly  wedded  to  their  original  idol  and  somewhat  resentful 
of  Offutt's  methods. 

Finally,  convinced  of  the  futility  of  his  task,  seething  with 
rage  and  frustration,  and  sparked,  no  doubt,  by  liberal  imbibing 
of  England's  most  potent  beverage,  Offutt  wrote  a  crackling, 
sputtering  letter,  with  weird  spelling,  confused  syntax,  and  lack 
of  punctuation,  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Times,  a  turf  and  sporting 
journal  published  in  New  York,  which  happened  to  be  a  warm 
admirer  of  Rarey. 

This  letter  intemperately  denounced  Rarey  and  his  two 
brothers  who  were  now  in  business  with  him,  asserted  that  none 
of  them  had  ever  been  heard  of  until  long  after  "a  Book  I 
published  in  Cincinnati  Ohio  1848,"  charged  that  "all  that  is 
worth  anything  in  their  Book  is  min,"  and  accused  Rarey  of 
"Robing  my  coppy  right."  If  they  had  "the  trooth  to  back 
them  why  not  compare  their  book  with  min,"  Offutt  demanded. 
"I  offered  to  do  it  to  the  one  in  America  at  Fare  in  State  Vir- 
ginia at  Frederick  he  wold  not  show  it  I  compared  it  to  many 
all  say  he  is  copped  from  min  I  publickly  declared  him  a  Rober 


REBELLION  243 

to  his  fase  and  Advertst  him  with  the  bove,  Rober,  swindler 
and  Ignorant." 

Denton  closed  this  remarkable  epistle,  "you  can  use  this 
as  you  like  you  will  have  to  correct  my  spelling  and  Gramer 
I  deal  in  fack  you  in  words.  If  it  dos  not  suit  you  pass  it  to 
such  paper  as  may  like  it." 

Of  course  it  suited  the  Spirit  of  the  Times  exactly,  and  in 
the  issue  of  June  25,  1859,  it  published  this  letter  with  ma- 
licious pleasure  just  as  Offutt  had  written  it,  ignoring  the 
writer's  request  for  correction  of  spelling  and  other  editing. 

One  morning  shortly  after  Offutt  wrote  Lincoln  about  his 
claim  against  Tilghman,  Tom  McNeely,  a  young  man  from 
Petersburg,  the  little  town  that  had  gobbled  up  New  Salem, 
came  into  Lincoln's  office.  Several  months  previously  he  had 
been  in  the  South  and  had  seen  Offutt,  who  was  giving  a  horse- 
taming  exhibition  at  Woodworth,  Mississippi.  After  the  per- 
formance McNeely  had  introduced  himself  to  Offutt,  of  whom 
the  elder  members  of  McNeely 's  family  had  frequently  spoken, 
and  Offutt  had  inquired  eagerly  about  his  old  New  Salem 
friends  and  especially  about  Lincoln. 

"Mr.  Offutt  gave  me  a  message  to  deliver  to  you,  Mr.  Lin- 
coln," said  McNeely  somewhat  hesitatingly,  "but  I  hardly  know 
whether  I  ought  to  deliver  it  or  not." 

"Tell  it  to  me,"  said  Lincoln.   "Tell  it  just  as  Offutt  said  it." 

"He  told  me  to  say  to  you,"  replied  McNeely,  "tell  Lincoln 
to  get  out  of  his  rascally  business  of  politics  and  law  and  do 
something  honest,  like  taming  horses.  Tell  him  to  come  down 
here  and  join  me  and  we'll  make  a  barrel  of  money/' 

Lincoln  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  heartily.  "That's 
Offutt,"  he  chuckled.    "That's  just  like  Offutt."6 

With  the  coming  of  autumn  Lincoln  took  the  stump  in 
other  states.  Thousands  flocked  to  see  and  hear  the  man  who 
had  dealt  the  mighty  Douglas  such  tremendous  blows.  "In 
personal  appearance,"  said  one  newspaper,  "he  looks  like  any 
other  'over  six  foot'  Kentuckian."    Sober,  earnest  crowds  lis- 


244  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

tened  attentively  at  Indianapolis,  Milwaukee,  Columbus,  and 
Dayton.  On  Sunday,  September  17,  Lincoln  and  his  wife  with 
little  Tad  arrived  in  Cincinnati.  They  were  met  at  the  depot 
by  a  committee  of  prominent  citizens  and  escorted  to  the  Burnet 
House  amid  the  boom  of  cannon  and  stirring  music  from  sev- 
eral brass  bands.  That  evening  he  spoke  to  an  immense  throng 
from  the  two-story  balcony  of  E.  and  D.  Kinsey's  store  on  Fifth 
Street,  which  was  illuminated  by  four  jets  of  gas  that  flared 
from  the  sidewalk,  a  huge  bonfire,  and  torch  lights  from  the 
mammoth  procession  of  the  German  Brigade. 

Lincoln  began  his  speech  by  saying  that  though  "no  longer 
a  young  man,"  he  was  "under  some  degree  of  embarrassment" 
because  this  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he  had  "appeared 
before  an  audience  in  so  great  a  city  as  this." 

Douglas  had  spoken  in  Cincinnati  recently,  and  the  early 
portion  of  Lincoln's  address  was  devoted  to  refuting  false  in- 
ferences which  the  Judge  had  drawn  from  the  "house  divided 
against  itself"  speech  that  Lincoln  had  made  at  Springfield 
"fifteen  months  ago." 

"I  now  assure  you,"  said  Lincoln,  "that  I  neither  then  had, 
nor  have,  or  ever  had,  any  purpose  in  any  way  of  interfering 
with  the  institution  of  Slavery  where  it  exists."  He  explained 
his  position  on  this  point  for  several  minutes  and  then  launched 
into  what  was  obviously  the  most  important  part  of  his  speech. 

"I  should  not  wonder,"  said  he,  "that  there  are  some  Ken- 
tuckians  about  this  audience;  we  are  close  to  Kentucky."  Any- 
way, he  observed  humorously,  "we  are  on  elevated  ground, 
and  by  speaking  distinctly,  I  should  not  wonder  if  some  of  the 
Kentuckians  would  hear  me  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
For  that  reason  I  propose  to  address  a  portion  of  what  I  have 
to  say  to  the  Kentuckians." 

Lincoln  said  that  he  was  what  Kentuckians  called  a  "Black 
Republican."  He  thought  slavery  was  "wrong,  morally,  and 
politically."  He  desired  that  there  should  be  no  further  spread 
of  it  in  the  United  States  and  he  "should  not  object  if  it  should 
gradually  terminate  in  the  whole  Union."   He  understood  that 


REBELLION  245 

Kentuckians  differed  "radically"  from  him  on  this  "proposi- 
tion." Kentuckians  "believe  Slavery  is  a  good  thing;  that  Slav- 
ery is  right;  that  it  ought  to  be  extended  and  perpetuated  in 
this  Union."    Such  was  the  "broad  difference"  between  them. 

In  Kentucky,  perhaps,  in  many  of  the  Slave  States  certainly,  you 
are  trying  to  establish  the  rightfulness  of  Slavery  by  reference  to 
the  Bible.  You  are  trying  to  show  that  slavery  existed  in  the  Bible 
times  by  Divine  ordinance.  Now  Douglas  is  wiser  than  you,  for 
your  own  benefit,  upon  that  subject.  Douglas  knows  that  whenever 
you  establish  that  Slavery  was  right  by  the  Bible,  it  will  occur  that 
that  Slavery  was  the  Slavery  of  the  white  man—oi  men  without 
reference  to  color— and  he  knows  very  well  that  you  may  entertain 
that  idea  in  Kentucky  as  much  as  you  please,  but  you  will  never 
win  any  Northern  support  upon  it. 

He  makes  a  wiser  argument  for  you;  he  makes  the  argument 
that  the  slavery  of  the  black  man,  the  slavery  of  the  man  who  has 
a  skin  of  different  color  from  your  own,  is  right.  He  thereby  brings 
to  your  support  Northern  voters  who  could  not  for  a  moment  be 
brought  by  your  own  argument  of  the  Bible-right  of  slavery. 

Lincoln  dwelt  at  length  upon  the  sophistry  of  the  proslavery 
argument  and  declared  the  certainty  of  ultimate  victory  for  the 
Republicans.  However,  he  assured  his  listeners  that  when  the 
Republicans  won,  the  vanquished  need  have  no  fear  of  hostile 
or  vindictive  treatment. 

We  mean  to  treat  you  as  near  as  we  possibly  can,  like  Washing- 
ton, Jefferson  and  Madison  treated  you.  We  mean  to  leave  you 
alone,  and  in  no  way  to  interfere  with  your  institution;  to  abide 
by  all  and  every  compromise  of  the  constitution.  .  .  .  We  mean 
to  remember  that  you  are  as  good  as  we;  that  there  is  no  difference 
between  us  other  than  the  difference  of  circumstances.  .  .  .  We 
mean  to  marry  your  girls  when  we  have  a  chance— the  white  ones 
I  mean— and  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that  I  once  did  have 
a  chance  in  that  way. 

Then  he  closed  his  speech  with  grateful  thanks  to  the  crowd 
that  had  "stayed  and  heard"  him  "with  great  patience."7 
What  Lincoln  said  at  Cincinnati  received  scant  attention 


246  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

from  the  Bluegrass  press.  On  September  20  the  Kentucky 
Statesman,  rabid  supporter  of  John  C.  Breckinridge,  noted 
briefly:  ''Honorable  Abr.  Lincoln,  the  defeated  candidate  for 
the  United  States  Senate  in  Illinois,  addressed  the  people  of 
Cincinnati  on  Saturday  evening  last,  in  reply  to  the  speech  of 
Judge  Douglas  on  the  9th."  However,  on  October  14  the  States- 
man attacked  him  in  a  bitter  editorial:  "Black  Republicanism- 
its  Fanaticism."  Quoting  a  portion  of  Lincoln's  speech  which 
contained  the  "house  divided  against  itself"  declaration,  it 
asked:  "Can  the  Whigs  authoritatively  deny  that  Lincoln  has 
not  the  confidence  of  his  party,  when  it  unanimously  nominated 
him  their  candidate  for  the  United  States  Senate  upon  the  very 
occasion  when  he  delivered  the  incendiary  and  fanatical  speech 
from  which  we  have  given  an  extract?" 

Several  months  after  Lincoln's  visit  to  Cincinnati  he  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  the  Burnet  House  enclosing  a  bill  for  his 
expenses  there,  saying  apologetically:  "We  relied  upon  the 
Republican  Committee,  but  as  yet  have  been  unable  to  find 
anyone  willing  to  take  the  responsibility  of  paying  same."  Lin- 
coln promptly  wrote  William  M.  Dickson,  Mrs.  Lincoln's  cousin 
by  marriage  and  a  prominent  party  leader  in  Cincinnati,  en- 
closing a  copy  of  the  hotel's  letter.  He  stated  that  before  leaving 
the  Burnet  House  he  "had  called  at  the  office  of  the  Hotel, 
and  was  there  distinctly  told  the  bill  'was  settled.'  ...  As  to 
wines,  liquors  &  cigars,"  said  Lincoln,  "we  had  none— absolutely 
none.  These  last  may  have  been  in  room  15,  by  order  of  Com- 
mittee, but  I  do  not  recollect  them  at  all.  Please  look  into 
this,  and  write  me.  I  can  and  will  pay  it  if  it  is  right;  but  I  do 
not  wish  to  be  'diddled'!"8 

In  December  he  made  several  speeches  in  Kansas,  followed 
by  his  address  at  Cooper  Institute  in  New  York  and  another 
trip  to  New  England.  Then  the  press  of  the  country  began  to 
mention  him  as  the  dark  horse  in  the  approaching  presidential 
campaign,  and  Lincoln  himself  confessed  to  a  friend:  "The 
taste  is  in  my  mouth  a  little."9  However,  as  convention  time 
approached,   William   H.   Seward,   United  States  senator  and 


REBELLION  247 

former  governor  of  New  York,  had  forged  far  in  the  lead  of 
likely  candidates,  although  the  Kentucky  Statesman  observed 
that  "his  most  formidable  competitor  seems  to  be  Abe  Lincoln." 

During  these  months  Cassius  M.  Clay  stumped  central  Ken- 
tucky on  behalf  of  Lincoln  and  the  Republican  party.  On 
January  10,  1860,  he  spoke  at  Frankfort.  This  time  the  hall 
of  the  House  of  Representatives  was  refused  him,  and  so  he 
harangued  a  rather  menacing  crowd  for  four  hours  from  the 
portico  of  the  capitol.  The  proslavery  men  in  Madison  County, 
just  across  the  Kentucky  River  from  Fayette,  armed  themselves 
with  shotguns  and  pistols,  and  declared  that  Clay  should  not 
fill  his  speaking  engagement  at  Richmond  on  April  4.  Ob- 
taining a  cannon  from  Lexington,  they  planted  it  in  the  public 
square  of  the  county  seat  and  arranged  with  Captain  John 
Hunt  Morgan  to  march  his  Lexington  Rifles  to  their  assistance, 
if  necessary. 

Unintimidated  by  these  warlike  demonstrations,  Clay  was 
on  hand  at  the  appointed  time  and  place  with  two  big  navy 
revolvers  and  his  trusty  bowie  knife.10  In  rare  form,  ignoring 
shouts  to  "shoot  him  through  the  head,"  he  denounced  the 
proslavery  faction  with  his  usual  vehemence,  explained  the 
principles  of  the  new  party,  and  strongly  urged  the  nomination 
of  Abraham  Lincoln  for  President.  "Many  'Union'  men,"  said 
the  New  York  World,  "we  are  told  declared  for  Lincoln  that 
day."11 

The  Republican  national  convention  assembled  in  Chicago, 
May  16,  1860.  The  nomination  of  Seward  seemed  inevitable, 
although  Bates  of  Missouri,  Cameron  of  Pennsylvania,  and 
Chase  of  Ohio  had  strong  backers.  Outside  of  Illinois  the  Lin- 
coln strength  was  an  unknown  quantity.  Conservative  members 
of  the  Kentucky  delegation  from  the  Bluegrass  region  were  for 
Lincoln,  while  the  radical  element  from  the  eastern  part  of  the 
state  and  counties  along  the  Ohio  River  were  for  Chase  and 
Seward. 

By  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  it  was  apparent  that  the 


248  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

nominee  must  be  a  man  conservative  enough  on  the  slavery 
question  to  hold  the  Border  States.  On  the  night  before  the 
balloting  a  group  of  Lincoln's  friends  from  the  Bluegrass  were 
busy  in  a  final  desperate  effort  to  swing  the  wavering  delega- 
tions to  their  candidate.  Through  crowded  hotel  lobbies,  pri- 
vate suites,  barrooms,  and  other  public  places  they  made  their 
way,  arguing,  pleading  the  availability  of  Lincoln. 

The  members  of  the  Kansas  delegation  received  word  that 
a  committee  of  Border  State  Unionists  would  like  to  confer 
with  them.  Soon  their  little  parlor  was  filled  with  a  group  of 
"as  resolute  a  looking  body  of  men— sharp  eyed,  broad  jawed," 
as  young  Addison  G.  Proctor,  a  delegate  from  Emporia,  had 
ever  seen.  In  the  midst  of  complete  silence  their  spokesman 
stepped  forward  to  the  head  of  the  table.  He  was,  according 
to  Proctor,  "Cassius  M.  Clay  of  Kentucky." 

"As  he  stood  posed  there,  ready,"  said  Proctor,  "he  was  the 
ideal  Kentucky  Colonel  with  all  the  mannerisms  of  that  ele- 
ment so  well  pictured  in  our  literature.  A  fascinating  man 
handsome  to  look  upon,  faultlessly  dressed,  keen,  bright  and 
emotional.  We  could  not  keep  our  eyes  off  as  he  stood  like  a 
waiting  orator  charged  with  a  volcanic  mission." 

Stepping  a  little  closer  to  the  table,  leaning  forward  in  a 
sort  of  confidential  gesture,  the  spokesman  uttered  a  few  burn- 
ing words  that  Proctor  never  forgot. 

"Gentlemen,  we  are  on  the  brink  of  a  great  Civil  War."  He 
paused  as  if  to  note  the  effect.  He  seemed  to  have  caught  a  look 
of  incredulity  creeping  over  our  faces  that  he  chose  to  interpret  in 
his  own  way.  Straightening  himself,  looking  every  inch  the  orator, 
he  said: 

"You  undoubtedly  have  heard  that  remark  before,  but  I  want 
you  to  know  that  that  fact  will  soon  be  flashed  to  you  in  a  way  you 
will  more  readily  comprehend.  Gentlemen,  we  are  from  the  South 
and  we  want  you  to  know  that  the  South  is  preparing  for  war.  If 
the  man  that  you  nominate  at  this  Convention  should  be  elected 
on  the  platform  you  have  already  adopted,  the  South  will  attempt 
the  destruction  of  this  Union.  On  two  southern  borders,  stretching 
from  the  east  coast  of  Maryland  to  the  Ozarks  of  Missouri,  there 


REBELLION  249 

stands  today  a  body  of  resolute  men  who  are  determined  that  this 
Union  shall  not  be  dissolved,  except  at  the  end  of  a  terrible  struggle 
in  resistance.  .  .  .  You  must  give  us  a  leader  at  this  time  who  will 
inspire  our  confidence  and  our  courage." 

Leaning  forward  in  a  half-suppressed  whisper  he  said,  "We  want 
you  to  name  Abraham  Lincoln.  He  was  born  among  us  and  we 
believe  he  understands  us."12 

Next  day  Abraham  Lincoln  was  nominated  on  the  third 
ballot.  The  convention  gave  Cassius  M.  Clay  101  votes  for 
Vice-President,  but  finally  decided  on  Hamlin  for  "geographi- 
cal" reasons.13  A  few  weeks  later,  the  Southern  Democracy 
selected  as  Lincoln's  adversary  the  handsome,  black-haired,  mag- 
netic playmate  of  Mary  Todd's  childhood,  John  C.  Breckinridge 
of  Lexington,  Kentucky.  These  two  candidates  with  Stephen 
A.  Douglas  as  the  nominee  of  the  Northern  Democrats  and 
John  Bell  representing  the  Union  party  made  up  the  field, 
and  campaign  banners  were  unfurled  for  battle. 

Clay  wrote  Lincoln  pledging  his  unfaltering  loyalty  and 
active  support,  to  which  the  Republican  candidate  responded 
promptly: 

Springfield,  Ills.  May  26,  1860 
Hon.  C.  M.  Clay. 
My  dear  Sir: 

Yours  of  the  21st.  is  received,  and  for  which  I  sincerely  thank 
you.  The  humblest  of  all  whose  names  were  before  the  convention, 
I  shall,  in  the  canvass,  and  especially  afterwards,  if  the  result  shall 
devolve  the  administration  upon  me,  need  the  support  of  all  the 
talent,  popularity,  and  courage,  North  and  South,  which  is  in  the 
party;  and  it  is  with  sincere  gratification  that  I  receive  this  early 
indication  of  your  unwavering  purpose  to  stand  for  the  right. 
Your  Obt.  Servt. 

A.  Lincoln14 

Seven  weeks  later  Clay  began  a  series  of  speaking  engage- 
ments in  Indiana.  "I  see  by  the  despatches,"  wrote  Lincoln, 
"that  Mr.  Clay  had  a  rousing  meeting  at  Vincennes." 

So  gratified  was  he  with  Clay's  efforts  that  he  urged  him 
to  fill  as  many  appointments  as  possible   in   Illinois,    "com- 


250  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

mencing,  say,  at  Marshall,  in  Clark  county,  and  thence  South 
and  West,  along  our  Wabash  and  Ohio  river  border." 

Lincoln  concluded  his  letter  by  informing  Clay  that  "at 
Rockport  you  will  be  in  the  county  within  which  I  was  brought 
up  from  my  eighth  year— having  left  Kentucky  at  that  point  of 
my  life."15 

Clay  agreed  to  speak  at  Marshall  and  to  "run  on  till  Sept. 
9th."  In  a  closing  paragraph  of  his  letter  he  suggested  that 
Lincoln  "put  Andrew  Jackson's  'Union'  speech"  in  his  in- 
augural address  and  "stay  clear  of  cliques."16 

"As  to  the  inaugural,"  Lincoln  wrote  in  reply,  "I  have  not 
yet  commenced  getting  it  up;  while  it  affords  me  great  pleasure 
to  be  able  to  say  the  cliques  have  not  yet  commenced  upon 
me."17 

However,  Lincoln  did  not  forget  Clay's  advice  about  Jack- 
son's speech.  Several  months  later,  when  he  locked  himself 
up  in  an  empty,  dusty  back  room  over  his  brother-in-law's  store 
to  write  his  address,  he  took  with  him  only  three  reference 
works,  and  one  of  these  was  Jackson's  "Proclamation  against 
Nullification."18 

By  the  middle  of  August  the  political  pot  was  boiling  in 
Kentucky.  Around  Lexington  the  Republican  ticket  received 
scant  attention  from  the  local  newspapers.  Only  a  few  times 
were  there  any  direct  references  to  Lincoln,  and  these  were  in 
a  mildly  contemptuous  vein.  "Lincoln  told  a  correspondent," 
declared  the  Statesman,  "that  he  had  received  an  invitation  to 
come  to  Kentucky,  but  declined  because  he  thought  it  was  a 
mere  trap  of  the  Kentuckians  to  catch  him,  tar  and  feather 
him,  and  set  him  on  fire  to  make  a  torch-light  procession  of 
him."19  To  this  campaign  canard  Lincoln  made  prompt  and 
vigorous  denial,  saying  that  he  did  not  fear  any  such  treatment 
at  the  hands  of  Kentuckians.  "I  dislike,"  said  he,  "to  be  rep- 
resented to  them  as  slandering  them  in  that  way."20 

The  followers  of  Breckinridge  realized  that  Bell  and  Doug- 
las were  the  men  they  had  to  beat,  and  they  now  attacked  the 


REBELLION  251 

Little  Giant  furiously  with  the  very  weapons  that  Lincoln  had 
used  against  him  at  Freeport.  Douglas,  they  pointed  out,  had 
admitted  that  slavery  could  be  excluded  from  the  territories 
by  unfriendly  legislation.  This  stamped  him  as  an  enemy  to 
every  slaveholder.  And  since  Bell,  the  Union  candidate,  ignored 
the  slavery  question  altogether,  it  was  apparent  that  John  C. 
Breckinridge  was  the  only  true  friend  of  the  South. 

On  September  5,  1860,  Lexington's  favorite  son  returned 
to  his  native  city  from  a  triumphant  tour  of  the  southern  states 
and  was  given  an  enthusiastic  welcome  by  fifteen  thousand 
people  at  a  barbecue  in  the  "Ashland"  woods.  After  a  feast 
of  roast  beef,  mutton,  and  burgoo,  Major  Breckinridge  "ad- 
dressed the  audience  on  the  political  issues  of  the  day,"  using 
the  answer  of  Douglas  at  Freeport  with  powerful  effect.  Feel- 
ingly he  defended  himself  against  the  personal  accusations  of 
his  enemies  amid  fervent  exclamations  of  "That's  so,  John  C." 

He  denied  that  he  had  signed  a  petition  for  the  pardon  of 
"John  Brown,  the  Harper's  Ferry  murderer  and  traitor."  He 
admitted  his  esteem  and  affection  for  Dr.  Robert  J.  Breckin- 
ridge, but  denied  that  he  had  ever  sympathized  with  his  uncle's 
antislavery  doctrines.  He  emphatically  repudiated  the  assertion 
that  he  favored  disunion.  "Born  within  sight  of  this  spot  where 
we  are  met,"  he  exclaimed,  "known  to  you  for  nearly  forty 
years— your  representative  in  the  Legislature  of  Kentucky,  in 
the  Congress  of  the  United  States  and  other  stations  of  public 
trust  I  proudly  challenge  the  bitterest  enemy  I  may  have  on 
earth  to  point  out  an  act,  to  disclose  an  utterance,  to  reveal  a 
thought  of  mine  hostile  to  the  Constitution  and  Union  of  the 
States." 

The  speaker  charged  that  Lincoln  represented  "the  most 
offensive  principles  before  the  country";  that  it  had  been  said 
that  he  was  the  only  man  in  the  way  of  Lincoln's  defeat.  "I 
agree  he  ought  to  be  defeated,"  said  Breckinridge,  as  tremen- 
dous applause  crackled  through  the  lofty  treetops.  "I  agree 
that  he  represents  the  most  obnoxious  principles  in  issue  in 
this  canvass.    I  agree  that  his  principles  are  clearly  unconstitu- 


252  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

tional,  and  if  the  Republican  Party  should  undertake  to  carry 
them  out,  they  will  destroy  the  Union.  But  does  anyone  pre- 
tend that  Mr.  Lincoln  will  carry  a  single  Southern  state?  In 
any  event,  was  Mr.  Douglas  willing  to  unite  in  the  only  prac- 
tical mode  for  the  defeat  of  Mr.  Lincoln?" 

"For  myself,"  he  said  in  conclusion,  "conscious  that  my  foot 
is  planted  on  the  rock  of  the  Constitution— surrounded  and 
sustained  by  friends  I  love  and  cherish— holding  principles  that 
have  been  in  every  form  endorsed  by  my  native  commonwealth 
—with  a  spirit  erect  and  unbroken  I  defy  all  calumny  and 
calmly  await  the  triumph  of  the  truth."21 

On  election  day  in  November,  Abraham  Lincoln  received 
only  two  votes  in  his  wife's  home  town  and  only  five  votes  in 
the  entire  county  of  Fayette. 

Highly  pleased  at  the  local  returns  so  flattering  to  Breckin- 
ridge, the  Kentucky  Statesman  rejoiced  editorially: 

Mr.  Breckinridge  received  more  votes  than  any  of  his  competi- 
tors in  the  Ward  in  which  he  resides. 

He  beat  all  the  other  candidates  in  the  Precinct  where  he  holds 
his  voting  residence. 

He  carried  the  City  of  Lexington  by  a  handsome  plurality  over 
all  the  other  candidates. 

He  beat  Bell,  Douglas  and  Lincoln  combined  in  the  Ashland 
District  by  a  very  handsome  majority. 

He  is  thus  sustained  by  his  Ward,  Precinct,  City  and  District. 

The  national  result,  however,  plunged  the  Statesman  into 
deepest  gloom.  "No  intelligent  man  of  the  South,"  said  its 
editor,  "will  fail  to  deprecate  the  election  of  Lincoln  and  therein 
the  success  of  the  Republican  party  as  the  most  serious  and 
lamentable  calamity  which  could  have  befallen  our  Republic."22 

Lincoln  and  the  "Black  Republican  Party"  were  now  bit- 
terly denounced  by  many  individuals,  including  some  who  had 
earnestly  opposed  secession. 

Old  Abe  Lincoln— is  an  infernal  old  Jackass  [wrote  an  im- 
petuous young  citizen  of  Lexington  on   November  26,    I860].    I 


REBELLION  253 

should  relish  his  groans  and  agonies  if  I  could  see  him  put  to  tor- 
ture in  hell  or  anywhere  else.  He  has  chosen  to  become  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  Republican  Party  and  as  such  I  should  like  to 
hang  him.  I  am  not  for  Disunion,  but  I  am  for  resistance  to  the 
Republican  Party  as  long  as  there  is  breath  in  it  or  any  of  its  mem- 
bers; fight  it  to  the  last  but  preserve  the  Union.  But  I  must  hush 
on  politics,  at  least  on  Republicanism  for  I  can  talk  calmly  of  any 
other  but  its  partisans;  them  so  foul  and  infamous,  so  traitorous 
and  worthy  of  damnation  I  cannot  tolerate.23 

But  there  were  cooler  heads  tempered  by  age,  experience, 
and  personal  acquaintance  who  held  a  different  impression  of 
the  President-elect.  "Lincoln  has  grown  great  since  we  knew 
him,"  observed  a  Lexington  friend  of  earlier  days.  "His  speeches 
in  reply  to  Douglas  certainly  show  him  to  be  a  man  of  sound 
mind  and  clear  head.  Those  who  know  him  best  have  entire 
confidence  in  his  firmness.  I  hope  and  pray  he  may  be  found 
equal  to  the  trying  trust."24 

The  President-elect  was  deeply  grateful  for  a  letter  of  con- 
gratulations from  Joshua  F.  Speed,  the  most  intimate  friend  he 
ever  had.  "If  it  would  be  agreeable  to  you  I  will  come  &  see 
you,"  wrote  Speed.  "I  think  [I]  can  impart  to  you  some  infor- 
mation as  to  men  &  public  sentiment  here  which  may  be  val- 
uable." 

Promptly  Speed  received  the  following  reply: 

Springfield.   Ills. 
Nov.  19,  1860 
Dear  Speed— 

Yours  of  the  14th.  is  received.  I  shall  be  at  Chicago  Thursday 
the  22nd  Inst,  and  one  or  two  succeeding  days.  Could  you  not 
meet  me  there? 

Mary  thinks  of  going  with  me;  and  therefore  I  suggest  that 
Mrs.  S.  accompany  you. 

Please  let  this  be  private,  as  I  prefer  a  very  great  crowd  should 
not  gather  at  Chicago. 
Respects  to  Mrs.  S., 

Your  friend,  as  ever 
A.  Lincoln25 


254  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  toward  the  South.  Would  the 
"Cotton  Republics"  make  good  their  oft-repeated  threats  to 
secede?  Though  the  Statesman  still  held  the  view  that  "No 
intelligent  man  of  the  South  will  fail  to  deprecate  the  election 
of  Lincoln  ...  as  the  most  serious  and  lamentable  calamity 
which  could  have  befallen  our  Republic,"  it  now  urged  the 
South  to  "await  full  development  of  Lincoln's  policy  before 
striking  the  fatal  blow  to  the  Union."26 

But  the  feeble  admonitions  of  the  Kentucky  press  fell  on 
deaf  ears.  The  time  for  action  had  arrived.  The  verdict  at 
the  polls  was  an  open  challenge  of  northern  aggression  which 
must  not  be  ignored.  And  while  the  President-elect  sat  "pale 
and  careworn"  and  helpless  in  his  office  in  the  statehouse  at 
Springfield,  southern  leaders,  some  with  keen  regret,  others 
with  swagger  and  clanking  of  sabers,  set  about  the  grim  task 
of  wrecking  the  federal  Union. 

Before  the  end  of  the  year  South  Carolina  had  passed  ordi- 
nances of  secession.  Florida,  Mississippi,  Alabama,  Louisiana, 
and  Texas  were  preparing  to  follow  her  example.  Custom- 
houses and  arsenals  with  their  stores  of  muskets,  gunpowder, 
and  other  accouterments  of  war  were  being  seized  daily.  Com- 
missioners from  Mississippi  and  Alabama  were  on  their  way 
to  Frankfort  to  urge  that  Kentucky  cast  her  lot  with  the  se- 
ceding states. 

No  one  realized  more  acutely  than  Lincoln  the  importance 
of  Kentucky  to  the  Union.27  The  Ohio  River  ran  along  her 
northern  border  for  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  Mississippi.  The 
town  of  Cairo,  lying  at  the  junction  of  these  two  rivers,  was 
the  terminus  of  the  Illinois  Central  Railroad,  with  unequaled 
advantages  as  an  army  base,  and  was  therefore  the  key  to  mili- 
tary operations  down  the  Mississippi  Valley. 

"I  think  to  lose  Kentucky,"  wrote  Lincoln  to  Senator  Brown- 
ing, "is  nearly  the  same  as  to  lose  the  whole  game.  Kentucky 
gone,  we  can  not  hold  Missouri,  nor,  as  I  think,  Maryland. 
These  all  against  us,  and  the  job  on  our  hands  is  too  large  for 
us."28 


REBELLION  255 

The  President-elect  knew  only  too  well  where  the  danger 
lay  in  Kentucky.  The  Bluegrass,  with  Lexington  as  the  center, 
was  still  the  largest  slaveholding  section  of  the  state.  If  the 
trend  toward  secession  could  be  checked  in  this  region,  Ken- 
tucky might  be  saved.  How  to  bring  this  about  was  the  great 
problem,  although  the  air  was  thick  with  suggestions  from 
various  Lexingtonians.  Judge  Robertson  wrote  Senator  Crit- 
tenden that  John  C.  Breckinridge  had  just  consulted  Lincoln, 
strongly  urging  him  to  "organize  a  national  Sc  representative 
Cabinet  consisting  of  three  Southern  Union  men  of  good  char- 
acter and  four  moderate  Republicans,"  but  that  Lincoln  was 
"non-commital."29  These  gentlemen,  of  course,  were  not  aware 
of  the  fact  that  Lincoln  had  wanted  Joshua  Speed  in  his  cabi- 
net, though  he  had  declared  himself  unavailable  for  any  office; 
that  the  President-elect  had  then  offered  to  appoint  James 
Guthrie  of  Louisville  secretary  of  war;  or  that  he  then  had 
under  consideration  for  cabinet  positions  John  A.  Gilmer  of 
North  Carolina,  Randall  Hunt  of  Louisiana,  and  Meredith  P. 
Gentry  of  Tennessee.30 

Senator  Garret  Davis  wrote  his  colleague  Crittenden  that 
"Unless  there  is  some  satisfactory  indication  shortly  given  by 
the  free  states  that  they  intend  to  permit  the  fugitive  slave  law 
to  be  executed  and  to  cease  their  assaults  upon  slavery,  Ken- 
tucky with  an  overwhelming  majority  will  range  herself  with 
the  South."31  "Let  them  go  on  in  peace  with  their  experiment," 
was  Crittenden's  reply. 

The  most  ominous  phase  of  the  situation  was  the  apathy 
of  leading  Kentucky  Unionists.  Though  opposed  to  secession 
themselves,  they  refused  to  have  any  part  in  the  coercion  of 
friends  who  were  about  to  embrace  it.  "The  work  of  disinte- 
gration is  rapidly  going  on,  and  the  whole  Confederative  struc- 
ture is  hourly  crumbling,"  observed  the  Statesman.  "We  do 
not  hesitate  to  believe  that  Kentucky,  indignant  and  united, 
will  take  her  position  along  with  the  section  to  which  she  be- 
longs, and  present  her  face  to  the  enemy."32 

It  was  at  this  critical  hour  that  Dr.  Robert  J.  Breckinridge 


256  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

drew  his  glittering  blade  and  stepped  into  the  breach.  Few 
men  had  a  wider  or  more  influential  acquaintance  throughout 
the  Border  States  than  Breckinridge.  In  former  years  he  had 
been  the  pastor  of  one  of  the  largest  churches  in  Baltimore. 
Several  close  kinsmen  who  lived  in  St.  Louis  were  leaders  in 
the  civic  affairs  of  Missouri.  His  duties  as  a  high  officer  in  the 
Presbyterian  General  Assembly  had  carried  him  frequently  to 
many  parts  of  the  country.  Now  the  Doctor  began  to  mobilize 
his  friends  in  Maryland,  Missouri,  and  Kentucky  for  the  Union. 
To  one  of  his  sons  he  wrote: 

I  am  utterly  opposed  and  will  resist  to  the  uttermost  of  my 
ability  a  Confederacy  of  the  fifteen  states— deeming  such  a  result 
the  most  fatal  issue  for  Kentucky  that  the  terrible  condition  of 
things  admits  of.  Show  this  letter  to  Robert  and  let  me  earnestly 
beseech  you  both  not  to  take  a  single  step,  even  the  very  smallest, 
that  can  by  any  possibility  conduct  you  into  the  direction  of  dis- 
union. The  whole  thing  is  utter  madness,  and  the  pretexts  for  it 
are  some  futile,  some  false,  some  atrocious;  not  one  of  them  such 
as  becomes  a  statesman,  a  philosopher,  a  patriot,  or  a  Christian; 
not  one  of  them  will  endure  the  light  of  history,  the  judgment  of 
mankind  or  the  scrutiny  of  posterity.33 

On  December  25,  1860,  Colonel  Featherstone,  the  special 
commissioner  from  Mississippi,  arrived  in  Frankfort.  He  pre- 
sented to  Governor  Magoffin  a  request  from  the  legislature  of 
his  state  that  he  call  an  extra  session  of  the  Kentucky  General 
Assembly  to  take  immediate  steps  with  the  South  "in  adoption 
of  efficient  measures  for  their  common  defense  and  safety." 
Shortly  thereafter  S.  F.  Hale  presented  the  governor  with  a 
similar  request  from  Alabama,  and  on  that  same  day  the  thing 
happened  that  Lincoln  most  feared:  Magoffin  issued  a  call  for 
the  legislature  to  convene  on  January  17,  1861.34 

Lincoln  knew  that  the  governor  was  the  leader  of  the  Breck- 
inridge Democrats  in  Kentucky.  He  was  aware  of  the  fact  that 
the  legislature  which  would  assemble  in  January  was  composed 
of  the  same  men  who  had  so  recently  returned  Breckinridge 
to  the  Senate  by  a  decisive  vote.    There  was  every  reason  to 


REBELLION  257 

believe  that  this  "Southern  Rights"  sentiment  still  predomi- 
nated, and  the  discouraged,  baffled  Unionists  seemed  ready  to 
throw  up  their  hands  in  despair. 

The  call  of  Governor  Magoffin  was  received  with  loud  ap- 
probation by  the  secessionists  of  Kentucky.  The  Statesman 
chided  those  who  were  "now  indulging  in  lamentations  over 
a  Union  which  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  history  of  the  past  as 
the  Roman  Republic.  .  .  .  The  Union  is  dismembered,"  it 
reminded  its  readers,  "but  men  will  not  realize  that  it  is  dis- 
solved until  the  fact  is  brought  home  to  their  own  doors."35 

On  all  sides  it  was  freely  predicted  that  the  General  As- 
sembly would  adopt  ordinances  of  secession  and  that  Kentucky 
would  no  longer  "hesitate  to  cast  her  lot  with  her  own  breth- 
ren." Confronted  by  this  alarming  situation,  many  earnest 
Unionists  of  the  Bluegrass  were  now  ready  to  allow  the  southern 
states  to  "go  on  in  peace  with  their  experiment."  Rather  than 
jeopardize  Kentucky,  they  were  willing  to  withdraw  all  objec- 
tions to  the  course  that  the  South  had  taken  so  long  as  their 
own  state  did  not  secede. 

One  of  the  ablest  lawyers  of  Kentucky,  Madison  C.  John- 
son, well  known  to  Lincoln  as  counsel  for  Mrs.  Todd  in  the 
settlement  of  his  father-in-law's  estate,  called  Senator  Garret 
Davis  to  his  office  in  Lexington  and  showed  him  resolutions 
which  he  intended  to  present  to  the  legislature.  They  recited 
"that  the  President  and  Senate  of  the  United  States  have  au- 
thority by  the  Constitution,  under  the  power  of  making  Trea- 
ties, to  acknowledge  the  independence  of  and  cede  from  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  United  States  any  of  the  States,  provided 
that  the  people  of  such  States  shall  clearly  and  deliberately 
give  their  consent  thereto";  that  "it  being  impossible  to  collect 
the  revenues  or  execute  the  laws  of  the  United  States  in  those 
States  which  have  passed  acts  of  secession  from  the  Union,  with- 
out involving  the  country  in  all  the  calamities  of  Civil  War, 
the  time  has  arrived  when,  in  the  opinion  of  the  General  As- 
sembly, negotiations  should  commence  for  a  treaty  recognizing 
and  granting  independence  to  those  States."36    Senator  Davis 


258  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

was  much  impressed  by  Johnson's  plan,  and  Senator  Crittenden 
also  approved  it;  but  Dr.  Breckinridge  denounced  the  proposi- 
tion with  vehement  scorn. 

The  Doctor  had  just  completed  plans  for  the  publication 
of  a  militant  Union  journal  called  the  Quarterly  Review,  of 
which  he  was  to  be  the  editor.  Hundreds  of  friends  in  the 
Border  States  were  eager  to  subscribe.  Every  mail  brought 
many  letters  urging  him  to  do  his  utmost  against  disunion  in 
Kentucky.  And  when  President  Buchanan  issued  a  proclama- 
tion fixing  January  4,  1861,  as  a  "day  set  apart  for  fasting, 
humiliation  and  prayer  on  account  of  the  fearful  condition 
and  terrible  perils  of  our  beloved  country,"  Breckinridge 
promptly  announced  that  on  that  day  he  would  address  the 
people  of  Kentucky  at  Lexington  on  the  "state  of  the  Union." 

The  Odd  Fellows  Hall  across  from  the  courthouse  was 
packed  to  the  farthermost  corners  on  the  afternoon  of  the  fast 
day  when  Dr.  Breckinridge  mounted  the  rostrum,  adjusted  his 
steel-rimmed  spectacles,  and  looked  out  over  the  tense  and 
none  too  friendly  audience.  Then,  with  only  a  few  introductory 
remarks  he  plunged  earnestly  into  the  heart  of  his  subject. 
The  vital  question  now  before  the  South  was  union  or  dis- 
union. Conscientious  men  were  strangely  divided  in  spite  of 
the  "inestimable  blessing  connected  with  the  preservation  of 
our  National  Union,  and  the  intolerable  evils  involved  in  its 
destruction." 

He  dwelt  at  length  on  the  glorious  history  of  these  United 
States  founded  on  the  principle  that  "the  will  of  the  greater 
part  should  prevail  and  that  the  smaller  part  should  have  the 
power  of  appeal  to  this  will  at  the  polls."  He  vividly  empha- 
sized the  "frightful  evils  of  rending  this  nation.  .  .  .  Secession 
is  a  proceeding  which  begins  by  tearing  to  pieces  the  whole 
fabric  of  government,  both  social  and  political,"  he  said.  "It 
begins  by  rendering  all  redress  of  all  possible  evils  utterly  im- 
possible under  the  system  that  exists,  for  its  very  object  is  to 
destroy  its  existence.  Its  very  design  is  not  to  reform  the  ad- 
ministration of  existing  laws,   not  to  obtain   their  repeal  or 


REBELLION  259 

modification,  but  to  annihilate  the  institutions  of  the  country 
and  to  make  many  nations  out  of  one." 

The  speaker  then  made  what  Lincoln's  home  paper  ap- 
plauded as  "an  ingenious  but  sound  argument"  on  state  sov- 
ereignty, which  the  President-elect  read  with  eagerness  and 
profit.37  "No  States  in  the  Union,"  he  said,  "ever  had  any  sov- 
ereignty at  all  independent  of  and  except  as  they  were  United 
States.  When  they  speak  of  recovering  their  sovereignty,  when 
they  speak  of  returning  to  their  condition  as  sovereign  in  which 
they  were  before  they  were  members  of  the  Confederacy  called 
at  first  the  United  Colonies,  and  then  the  United  States,  they 
speak  of  a  thing  that  is  historically  without  any  foundation." 
He  then  traced  the  growth  of  the  colonies  from  royal  charter 
grants  to  a  confederacy  that  wrested  independence  from  King 
George. 

What  sovereignty  did  Kentucky  ever  have  except  the  sovereignty 
that  she  has  as  a  State  of  these  United  States?  We  were  a  District 
of  Virginia.  We  became  a  State  at  the  same  moment  we  entered 
the  Union,  and  for  the  same  purpose,  and  for  good  and  all.  .  .  . 
The  people,  therefore,  can  no  more  legally  throw  off  their  national 
allegiance,  than  they  can  legally  throw  off  their  state  allegiance. 
Nor  can  any  State  any  more  legally  absolve  the  allegiance  of  its 
people  to  the  Nation,  than  the  Nation  can  legally  absolve  the  al- 
legiance due  by  the  people  to  the  State  they  live  in.  Either  attempt 
considered  in  any  legal,  in  any  constitutional,  in  any  historical  light, 
is  pure  madness. 

Dr.  Breckinridge  devoted  the  latter  part  of  his  address  to 
a  demonstration  that  Kentucky  and  the  other  Border  States  of 
Maryland,  Delaware,  Virginia,  and  Missouri  had  little  in  com- 
mon with  the  Cotton  States.  Their  system  of  slavery  were  as 
radically  different  as  the  commodities  they  produced. 

"Do  you  want  the  slave-trade  reopened?"  he  inquired.  "Do 
you  want  free  trade  and  direct  taxation?  Do  you  want  some 
millions  more  of  African  cannibals  thrown  amongst  you  broad- 
cast throughout  the  whole  slave  states?  ...  If  that  is  your  un- 
derstanding of  high  national  prosperity,  where  the  great  idea 


260  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

is  more  negroes,  more  cotton,  direct  taxes,  free  imports  from 
all  nations,  and  the  conquest  of  all  outlying  land  that  will 
bring  more  cotton,  then  undoubtedly,  Kentucky  is  no  longer 
what  she  has  been  and  her  new  career,  beginning  with  secession, 
leads  her  far  away  from  her  strength  and  renown."  The  ad- 
dress closed  with  an  exhortation  that  "Kentucky  stand  by  the 
Constitution  and  the  union  of  the  country  to  the  last  extrem- 
ity."38 

The  old  Doctor's  speech  was  a  trumpet  call  to  the  faltering, 
disheartened  Unionists  of  Kentucky  and  the  other  Border 
States.  Everywhere  it  was  received  with  enthusiastic  praise. 
Patriotic  citizens  of  Baltimore  had  a  large  edition  of  the  fast 
day  sermon  printed  in  pamphlet  form,  which  was  widely  cir- 
culated in  Maryland.39  The  speech  appeared  in  many  news- 
papers throughout  the  country,  and  nowhere  was  it  more  warm- 
ly endorsed  than  in  Springfield,  Illinois.  "We  commend  it  to 
our  Kentucky  friends  in  this  State,"  said  the  State  Journal,  "who 
may  have  recently  heard  very  different  doctrines  from  theo- 
logians not  quite  so  eminent  as  Dr.  Breckinridge,  and  from 
weak-kneed  politicians  who  wish  to  dragoon  the  descendants 
of  Kentuckians  in  our  free  State  to  a  submission  to  the  de- 
mands of  secessionists,  which  the  true  Kentuckian  spurns."40 
Letters  from  Maryland,  Missouri,  and  various  parts  of  Ken- 
tucky poured  in  to  Dr.  Breckinridge,  expressing  warmest  grati- 
tude.41 

It  was  in  Kentucky,  of  course,  that  the  fast  day  sermon  had 
its  greatest  weight.42  Thousands  of  printed  copies  were  scat- 
tered through  the  Bluegrass,  and  when  the  legislature  convened 
on  January  17,  the  speech  was  on  the  desk  of  every  member, 
much  to  the  annoyance  of  Governor  Magoffin,  who  could  not 
help  feeling  that  it  sealed  the  doom  of  all  his  fondest  hopes.43 

Other  influential  citizens  of  Lexington,  aroused  by  Breckin- 
ridge's ringing  defiance  of  disunion,  now  arrayed  themselves 
openly  on  the  side  of  the  government.  ""I  have  received  your 
letter,"  wrote  General  Leslie  Combs,  a  survivor  of  the  War 
of  1812,  to  his  son  in  Missouri,  "desiring  to  know  my  opinion 


REBELLION  261 

as  to  the  result  of  the  movements  by  the  Palmetto— Snake  State 
and  her  Cotton  State  cooperators  to  dissolve  our  glorious  Union 
and  thus  inevitably  plunge  us,  first  into  civil  war,  next  into 
anarchy  and  lastly  into  the  darkness  of  despotism.  Answer:  I 
think  they  will  jail  and  thus  win  the  scorn  of  the  world  without 
the  slightest  sympathy  from  any  quarter.  .  .  .  Let  who  will 
give  way,  rely  upon  it  that  your  native  Kentucky  will  stand 
firm."44 

On  January  30  Lincoln  packed  his  old  carpetbag  and  slipped 
quietly  out  of  Springfield  to  pay  a  last  visit  to  his  aged  and 
beloved  stepmother  down  in  Coles  County.  Arriving  at  Charles- 
ton on  an  eastbound  freight  late  in  the  afternoon,  he  trudged 
through  mud,  slush,  and  ice,  in  the  bleak,  fading  twilight,  the 
length  of  the  long  train  to  a  two-horse  rig  which  would  take 
him  eight  miles  along  a  narrow,  rough  dirt  road  over  which 
he  had  hauled  wood  with  a  yoke  of  oxen  to  the  tiny  village  of 
Farmington. 

For  a  few  precious,  fleeting  hours  the  President-elect  and 
the  frail  little  woman  who  loved  him  better  than  any  child  born 
to  her  sat  with  their  arms  around  each  other.  Deeply  depressed 
at  her  firm  conviction  that  she  would  never  see  him  again,  he 
held  her  hand,  stroked  her  face,  and  tried  to  reassure  her.  To- 
gether they  stood  beside  the  grave  of  his  father  in  the  unkempt 
country  churchyard— then  a  long  embrace  and  a  tearful  good-by. 

Next  day  Lincoln  was  back  in  his  office  at  the  statehouse 
busy  with  final  arrangements  for  the  journey  to  Washington. 
By  February  7  he  had  rented  his  home,  disposed  of  his  furni- 
ture, and  moved  his  family  over  to  the  Chenery  House. 

In  the  late  afternoon  of  his  last  day  in  Springfield  he  met 
his  law  partner,  William  H.  Herndon,  for  a  last  conference  in 
their  dingy  old  office.  For  a  short  while  they  discussed  unfin- 
ished legal  business  and  went  hastily  over  the  the  books  of  the 
firm.  Then  Lincoln  threw  himself  down  on  the  battered, 
rickety  sofa  and  for  a  few  minutes  lay  with  his  tired  face  toward 
the  ceiling,  without  speaking.    Then  he  began  to  talk  of  the 


262  LINCOLN  AND   THE  DLUEGRASS 

early  days  of  their  practice,  recalling  the  humorous  features  of 
various  lawsuits  on  the  circuit.  Thus  his  reminiscences  ran  on 
until  dusk  crept  through  the  grimy  little  windows  and  it  was 
suppertime. 

As  he  gathered  a  bundle  of  books  and  papers  under  his 
arm  and  started  out,  he  spoke  of  the  old  sign,  "Lincoln  &  Hern- 
don,"  that  swung  on  rusty  hinges  over  the  door  at  the  foot  of 
the  steps.  "Let  it  hang  there  undisturbed,"  he  said  to  Herndon 
in  a  lowered  voice.  "Give  our  clients  to  understand  that  the 
election  of  a  President  makes  no  change  in  the  firm  of  Lincoln 
and  Herndon.  If  I  live,  I  am  coming  back  some  time  and  then 
we  will  go  right  on  practicing  law  as  if  nothing  had  happened." 
He  lingered  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  fa- 
miliar quarters,  and  then  passed  for  the  last  time  into  the  nar- 
row hallway  and  down  the  creaky  stairs.45 

The  following  morning,  February  11,  the  President-elect 
was  up  early.  With  his  own  hands  he  roped  his  trunks,  tacked 
at  the  ends  hotel  cards  on  which  he  had  written  "A.  Lincoln, 
White  House.  Washington,  D.  C,"  and  helped  load  them  on 
the  depot  omnibus. 

Shortly  before  eight  o'clock  the  small  presidential  party  ar- 
rived at  the  small  brick  depot  of  the  Great  Western  Railroad. 
The  special  train— pilot  engine,  Hinckley  locomotive,  baggage 
car,  and  one  passenger  coach— had  steam  up  on  the  siding. 

The  skies  were  low  and  heavy.  A  solemn  throng  of  nearly 
a  thousand  people  stood  in  the  cold,  drizzling  rain  as  Lincoln 
reached  the  rear  platform,  turned,  and  removed  his  hat.  Pre- 
viously he  had  informed  newspaper  reporters  that  there  would 
be  no  speechmaking  until  after  he  had  left  Springfield,  but 
now  as  he  looked  into  the  expectant,  upturned  faces  of  his  old 
friends  and  neighbors,  he  forgot  this  assurance,  and  in  a  voice 
that  quavered  slightly  with  suppressed  emotion,  he  spoke  a  few 
simple  words  of  farewell. 

My  friends— No  one,  not  in  my  situation,  can  appreciate  my 
feeling  of  sadness  at  this  parting.  To  this  place,  and  the  kindness 
of  these  people,  I  owe  every  thing.    Here  I  have  lived  a  quarter 


REBELLION  263 

of  a  century,  and  have  passed  from  a  young  to  an  old  man.  Here 
my  children  have  been  born,  and  one  is  buried.  I  now  leave,  not 
knowing  when,  or  whether  ever,  I  may  return,  with  a  task  before 
me  greater  than  that  which  rested  upon  Washington.  Without 
the  assistance  of  that  Divine  Being,  who  ever  attended  him,  I  can- 
not succeed.  With  that  assistance  I  cannot  fail.  Trusting  in  Him, 
who  can  go  with  me,  and  remain  with  you  and  be  every  where  for 
good,  let  us  confidently  hope  that  all  will  yet  be  well.  To  His  care 
commending  you,  as  I  hope  in  your  prayers  you  will  commend  me, 
I  bid  you  an  affectionate  farewell.46 

As  he  finished,  the  conductor  pulled  the  bell  cord,  and  in 
another  moment  the  little  train  was  gliding  out  into  the  mist- 
Lincoln  standing,  until  lost  from  view,  bareheaded  on  the  rear 
platform. 

The  text  of  Lincoln's  brief  impromptu  speech  as  printed 
next  day  in  the  Springfield  State  Journal  contained  the  sen- 
tence: "All  the  strange,  chequered  past  seems  to  crowd  now 
upon  my  mind."  Sometime  during  that  day,  as  the  presiden- 
tial special  rolled  toward  Indianapolis,  an  early  friend  of  that 
past— old,  broken  financially,  in  the  late  stages  of  consumption, 
and  drinking  heavily— sat  down  in  far-off  Baton  Rouge,  Louisi- 
ana, and  wrote  a  characteristic  letter,  reminiscent— now  and 
then— of  those  rosy,  confident  years  when  big  money  was  just 
around  the  corner.  He  addressed  the  letter  to  "The  Elect  Presi- 
dent A  Lincoln."  He  gave  him  his  "best  respects"  and  hoped 
to  find  him  "and  Family  In  Joying  the  Helth  of  Life."  He 
told  his  old  store  clerk  that  he  had  lost  his  property  for  various 
reasons,  including  "Misrepasentation  of  other  of  my  Profes- 
sion."  And  then  he  continued: 

You  will  sea  that  I  have  sued  John  S.  Rairy  of  Ohio  at  N  York 
for  $100,000.00  dollars  he  has  large  mounts  If  I  git  it  I  will  not 
Except  any  office  or  If  I  can  git  hear  The  Appointment  of  Physiolo- 
gist of  this  State  I  will  be  in  warm  climate  better  for  me  If  not 
I  hope  you  think  me  worthy  of  the  Trust  of  office.  I  hope  you  will 
Give  me  one  Pattent  office  or  the  office  of  Agriculteral  Department 
or  the  Commisary  for  Purchais  of  Horses  Mules  Beef  for  Army  or 


264  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Mail  agent     1  can  do  more  for  the  Advansment  of  Selecting  good 
Animals   [than]   all  other 

And  more  to  Improve  the  breads  of  Animals,  And  Feed  them 
Preserve  ther  hellth  and  to  Grais  the  Lands  old  and  pore  lands  of 
all  the  people  in  America  The  papers  say  that  Animl  in  nation 
is  worth  Ten  hundrd  million  Dollars  they  can  be  Improved  Ten 
per  sen  Annullay  for  all  time  This  wold  be  one  hundred  million 
a  year 

I  have  to  be  looking  out  to  live  I  hope  you  will  Favour  me 
of  my  hopes  as  I  may  Seak  a  plan  for  Livin  so  that  I  may  take  the 
bes  plan. 

You  Frend  and  well  wisher 

Denton  Offutt47 

Next  afternoon,  on  his  fifty-second  birthday,  Lincoln  ar- 
rived in  Cincinnati,  where  he  spent  the  night  and  made  a  short 
speech  from  the  balcony  of  the  Burnet  House.  No  one  could 
look  on  this  "vast  assemblage,"  he  said,  without  realizing  the 
fact  that  "parties  were  united  in  this  reception."  This  was  right. 
This  was  as  it  should  have  been  if  Douglas  or  Bell  or  Breckin- 
ridge had  been  elected.  This  was  the  American  way— impossible 
anywhere  without  the  influence  of  free  institutions. 

Lincoln  reminded  his  audience  that  he  had  spoken  only 
once  before  in  Cincinnati.  He  recalled  that  on  that  occasion 
he  had  addressed  much  of  his  speech  to  Kentuckians,  that  he 
had  "in  a  playful  manner,  but  with  sincere  words,"  expressed 
the  opinion  that  the  Republicans  would  "ultimately  beat"  the 
Democrats,  but  that  when  this  happened,  there  would  be  no 
interference  with  their  "institutions,"  and  that  the  victorious 
party  would  "abide  by  all  and  every  compromise"  of  the  Con- 
stitution. 

"Fellow  Citizens  of  Kentucky— friends— brethren,  may  I  call 
you  in  my  new  position,"  he  said  earnestly,  in  the  midst  of 
great  applause,  "I  see  no  occasion  and  feel  no  inclination  to 
retract  a  word  of  this.  If  it  shall  not  be  made  good,  be  assured 
the  fault  shall  not  be  mine."  He  closed  his  remarks  with  the 
solemn  wish  that  the  "American  people,  under  the  Providence 


REBELLION  265 

of  God  .  .  .  shall  again  be  brethren,  forgetting  all  parties- 
ignoring  all  parties."48 

Lincoln  had  felt— and  no  doubt  hoped,  though,  as  it  turned 
out,  in  vain— that  he  might  be  invited  to  make  a  speech  in 
Kentucky,  probably  in  Covington,  during  his  stopover  in  Cin- 
cinnati. Consequently,  before  leaving  Springfield  he  had  hast- 
ily written  out  on  five  small  pages  of  manuscript  what  he 
intended  to  say  if  such  an  occasion  should  arise.  His  first  sen- 
tence was,  '1  am  grateful,  for  the  oppertunity  [sic]  your  invita- 
tion affords  me  to  appear  before  an  audience  of  my  native  state." 
He  then  went  on  to  say  that  during  the  past  several  months, 
many  well-meaning  citizens,  "Kentuckians,  among  others,"  had 
expressed  the  opinion  that  he  could  "by  a  word,  restore  peace 
to  the  country."  By  what  word?  Many  words  of  his,  he  said, 
were  already  before  the  country,  and  he  had  been  elected  "on 
the  faith  of  those  words."  Is  the  desired  word  to  be  confirma- 
tory of  these,  or  must  it  be  contradictory?  If  the  former,  would 
it  not  be  "useless  repe[ti]tion";  if  the  latter,  would  it  not  be 
"dishonorable  and  treacherous"? 

Then,  too,  it  was  urged  that  this  word  must  be  spoken  be- 
fore he  took  the  oath  of  office.  Thus,  the  speaking  of  the  word 
became  a  "sine  qua  non"  to  inauguration.  Would  any  Bell 
man,  or  Douglas  man,  or  Breckinridge  man  allow  his  own  can- 
didate to  yield  to  such  terms,  if  he  had  been  elected?  "Who 
amongst  you,"  asked  Lincoln,  "would  not  die  by  the  proposi- 
tion, that  your  candidate,  being  elected,  should  be  inaugerated 
[sic],  solely  on  the  conditions  of  the  constitution,  and  laws,  or 
not  at  all.  What  Kentuckian,  worthy  of  his  birth  place,  would 
not  do  this?"  He  paused  and  then  said  impressively,  "Gentle- 
men, I  too,  am  a  Kentuckian." 

What  was  desired  of  course,  he  continued,  was  that  he  should 
shift  the  ground  upon  which  he  had  been  elected.  This  he 
had  declined  to  do— not  because  he  was  stubborn  or  because 
of  "any  indifference  to  the  troubles  of  the  country,"  but  be- 
cause of  his  firm  belief  "that,  if,  when  a  Chief  Magistrate  is 


266  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

constitutionally  elected,  he  cannot  be  inaugurated  till  he  be- 
trays those  who  elected  him  by  breaking  his  pledges,  and  sur- 
rendering to  those  who  tried  and  failed  to  defeat  him  at  the 
polls,  this  government  and  all  popular  government  is  already 
at  an  end."49 

It  is  not  known,  of  course,  what  effect  Lincoln's  Cincinnati 
speech  had  on  Kentuckians  generally,  but  one  of  them,  at 
least,  has  left  a  record  of  how  the  speaker  impressed  him  on 
that  occasion.  Five  days  after  the  journey  toward  Washington 
had  been  resumed,  a  young  Lexingtonian,  John  Jeffrey,  wrote 
back  home  to  "Dear  Aleck,"  his  brother:  "Old  Abe  Lincoln 
was  here  this  week  &  looks,  talks,  &  acts  just  as  you  may  have 
seen  some  long,  slab  sided  flat  boat  'Capting,'  who  had  sold 
his  'prodooce'  at  Memphis  &  invested  12$  at  a  slop  shop  tailor's 
in  rigging  himself  out  for  Sunday.  He  is  a  disgrace  as  the  head- 
boss  of  any  civilized  nation."50 

On  February  13,  1861,  the  two  houses  of  Congress  met  in 
joint  session  to  count  the  electoral  votes  for  President  of  the 
United  States.  By  eight  o'clock  crowds  were  swarming  up  Capi- 
tol Hill,  and  as  the  hour  approached,  "not  only  the  galleries 
but  the  lobbies  leading  to  them  were  packed,  the  ladies  filling 
every  seat  appropriated  to  their  use."51  For  days  rumors  had 
flown  thick  and  fast  that  Vice-President  Breckinridge  would 
refuse  to  announce  the  election  of  Lincoln  and  thus  give  the 
signal  for  the  seizure  of  Washington  by  the  overwhelming 
number  of  southern  sympathizers  within  its  gates.  General 
Scott  had  directed  that  no  person  should  be  admitted  to  the 
Capitol  building  except  senators,  representatives,  government 
employees,  and  those  who  had  tickets  signed  by  the  speaker 
of  the  House  or  the  presiding  officer  of  the  Senate.  Armed 
guards  were  stationed  at  every  entrance  to  enforce  this  order. 

Shortly  after  noon  the  senators  filed  into  the  House  cham- 
ber and  took  their  seats  in  a  semicircle  arranged  for  them  in 
front  of  the  speaker's  desk.  The  presiding  officer  was  conduct- 
ed to  his  chair,  and  tellers  took  their  places  at  the  clerk's  table. 


foHN  C.  Breckinridge 


^kaj**SuJ2~>t  lie,,  fa«j  &£>.  lK,o 

Ikpu £ryL*J    ^yLc^^^^u^C    erf*  gUZg;  t*s~fc*-*~o  (hj&**i, 

iS     fcj£    fLA^^C       ^L^_J2^     £>£*^zr£^      jfc& 

P-jf^,   lyVa^cZj     ^^m\r  *fjn~<zz>   f~j^k~cjz>  a?  a-/ 


Abraham  Lincoln  to  Cassius  M.  Clay 


REBELLION  267 

Vice-President  Breckinridge  then  arose  and  in  a  calm  firm 
voice  announced  that  the  two  houses  were  assembled  to  count 
the  electoral  votes  for  President  and  Vice-President  of  the 
United  States. 

"It  is  my  duty,"  he  said,  "to  open  the  certificates  of  election 
in  the  presence  of  the  two  Houses,  and  I  now  proceed  to  the 
performance  of  that  duty." 

No  one  knew  the  gravity  of  the  occasion  better  than  the 
chairman.  None  realized  more  than  he  that  fully  three  fourths 
of  those  who  sat  beneath  the  vaulted  dome  were  armed  to  the 
teeth  and  that  the  slightest  spark  might  touch  off  a  shocking 
conflagration.  But  those  who  expected  John  C.  Breckinridge 
to  stultify  his  high  office  by  a  conspiracy  to  overthrow  the  gov- 
ernment did  not  know  the  man.  Firmly  believing  the  triumph 
of  the  Republican  party  to  be  a  menace  to  the  South,  he  would 
shortly  return  his  commission  as  senator  to  his  constituents  in 
Kentucky,  forsaking  fame  and  fortune  under  the  Stars  and 
Bars.  But  today  he  was  the  presiding  officer  of  the  federal 
Senate,  and  Jupiter  never  ruled  a  council  of  Olympus  with  a 
firmer  hand. 

A  southern  member  arose,  but  the  chairman  anticipated 
him.  "Except  questions  of  order,  no  motions  can  be  enter- 
tained," he  declared. 

The  senator  stated  that  he  wished  to  raise  a  point  of  order. 
"Is  the  count  of  the  electoral  vote  to  proceed  under  menace?" 
he  shouted.  "Shall  members  be  required  to  perform  a  Con- 
stitutional duty  before  the  Janizaries  of  General  Scott  are  with- 
drawn from  the  hall?" 

"The  point  of  order  is  not  sustained,"  ruled  Breckinridge 
emphatically,  and  he  directed  the  count  to  proceed. 

Slowly  one  after  another  the  long  sealed  envelopes  contain- 
ing the  votes  of  the  various  states  were  opened.  "Maine  for 
Lincoln"  was  followed  by  a  slight  ripple  of  applause.  "South 
Carolina  for  Breckinridge"  was  lost  in  an  outburst  of  hand 
clapping  quickly  and  sternly  suppressed  by  the  presiding  of- 
ficer. Then,  in  a  breathless  silence  and  with  profound  attention 


268  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

on  the  part  of  all  present,  John  C.  Breckinridge  arose  from  his 
seat,  standing  erect,  the  most  dignified  and  imposing  person 
in  that  presence: 

''Abraham  Lincoln,"  he  announced  with  a  distinctness  that 
carried  his  mellow  voice  to  the  most  distant  corner  of  the  gal- 
lery, "having  received  a  majority  of  the  whole  number  of  elec- 
toral votes,  is  duly  elected  President  of  the  United  States  for 
the  four  years  beginning  on  the  Fourth  of  March,  1861."52 

A  few  days  later  the  President-elect  reached  Washington, 
and  his  enemies  heaped  a  boisterous,  stinging  ridicule  upon 
him  for  yielding  to  the  insistence  of  his  advisers  and  making 
a  secret  night  trip  from  Harrisburg  to  the  capital  because  of  an 
alleged  plot  to  assassinate  him  as  he  came  through  Baltimore. 

The  following  newspaper  comments  on  this  episode  were 
read  on  the  streets  of  Lexington  and  other  Kentucky  towns: 

Lincoln  said  in  Philadelphia  before  Independence  Hall  that  he 
would  rather  be  assassinated  than  abandon  the  principles  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  but  within  a  week  he  ran  from  the 
first  whisperings  of  danger  as  fleetly  as  ever  a  naked-legged  High- 
lander pursued  a  deer  upon  Scotia's  hills.  The  men  who  made  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  did  not  make  it  good  in  that  way. 
They  fought  for  their  rights.  Lincoln  runs  for  his.  The  inference 
is,  they  could  best  maintain  its  principles  by  fighting;  Lincoln,  his 
by  running.  Let  all  men  use  the  talent  that  is  given  them.  .  .  .  Lin- 
coln is  said  to  be  a  Kentuckian  by  birth.  We  now  have  our  doubts 
on  that  point.  No  Kentucky-born  man  ever  would  have  run  all 
the  way  from  Harrisburg  to  Washington,  with  but  the  ghost  of 
an  enemy  in  sight.53 


SIXTEEN 


Stirring  Days  in 
Kentucky 


JVlARCH  4,  1861,  dawned  raw  and  gusty— an  anxious,  mem- 
orable day  in  the  national  capital.  A  President  of  the  United 
States  was  to  be  inaugurated— possibly  for  the  last  time  under 
the  government  established  by  the  Fathers.  Despite  low  mut- 
terings  of  the  approaching  storm,  streets  and  public  buildings 
were  profusely  decorated,  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes  floated 
bravely  from  every  flagstaff.  The  military  had  always  borne 
a  conspicuous  part  in  inaugural  ceremonies,  but  today  the 
alertness  of  infantry  and  cavalry,  with  strategically  planted  bat- 
teries of  field  artillery  and  sharpshooters  on  top  of  the  buildings 
along  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  gave  an  atmosphere  of  ominous 
gravity  to  the  occasion. 

By  noontime  the  wooden  platform  erected  at  the  east  por- 
tico of  the  Capitol  was  surrounded  by  a  motley  and  mildly 
curious  assemblage.  The  stand  itself  was  filled  with  robed 
justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  senators,  representatives,  at- 
taches of  foreign  countries,  and  prominent  leaders  of  the  Re- 
publican party. 


270  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Presently  the  long,  lank  figure  of  the  President-elect  ap- 
peared on  the  rotunda,  and  with  Chief  Justice  Taney  and  the 
clerk  of  the  Supreme  Court  walked  slowly  down  the  center 
aisle  to  the  front  of  the  platform.  He  was  visibly  self-conscious 
in  a  rather  tight-fitting  black  broadcloth  suit,  and  he  held  a 
gold-headed  cane  stiffly  in  his  left  hand.  Taking  the  manu- 
script of  the  inaugural  address  from  his  breast  pocket,  he  laid 
it  with  the  cane  on  a  little  rickety  table.  As  he  glanced  about 
for  a  more  suitable  place  to  put  his  hat,  the  short,  sturdy  arm 
of  Stephen  A.  Douglas  reached  forward  and  relieved  him  of  it. 
Then,  while  Lincoln  delivered  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  Eng- 
lish prose,  the  Little  Giant  sat  and  listened  attentively,  nodding 
his  shaggy  head  now  and  then  with  approval,  holding  "Old 
Abe's"  tall,  shiny  new  hat  in  his  lap  all  the  while.1 

That  evening  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  attended  the  Inaugural 
Ball,  and  the  Lexington  newspapers  published  vivid  descrip- 
tions of  the  presidential  couple  at  this  function. 

It  is  eleven  o'clock  [said  the  Statesman'].  The  orchestra  has  struck 
up  "Hail  to  the  Chief"  and  all  eyes  are  turned  to  the  main  en- 
trance. He  comes  (the  chief)  with  the  Mayor  on  his  right  and  a 
stout  man,  who  looks  like  a  Pennsylvania  iron  manufacturer,  on 
his  left,  and  with  these  conductors,  Old  Abe  walks  down  the  hall 
between  the  lines  of  the  assemblage,  very  much  like  a  man  in  a 
dream.  One  lady  observes:  "Old  Abe,  as  I  live,  is  tipsy.  Look  at 
that  funny  smile."  But  Old  Abe  was  simply  fatigued,  and  perhaps 
a  little  bit  distracted  with  the  bewildering  events  of  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours.2 

The  far  more  flattering  reference  to  Mrs.  Lincoln  would 
have  delighted  the  heart  of  Mme.  Mentelle,  had  Mary's  old 
teacher  lived  six  months  longer.3 

Mrs.  Lincoln  [continued  the  account],  who  followed  in  his  wake, 
on  the  arms  of  the  self-possessed  Senator  Douglas,  is  still  more  self- 
possessed,  and  has,  evidently,  with  more  readiness  adapted  herself 
than  her  taller  half  to  the  exalted  station  in  which  she  has  been 
so  strangely  advanced  from  the  simple  social  life  of  the  little  inland 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  271 

capital  of  Illinois.  Women  learn  such  things  much  faster  than  men. 
Mrs.  L.  shows  us  in  her  choice  of  blue  on  this  occasion,  as  the  color 
which  suits  her  fair  complexion  best,  that  she  is  no  stranger  to  the 
beautiful  science  of  the  toilet.  She  dresses  tastefully.  She  seems  to 
feel  that  her  station  is  as  high  as  that  of  any  of  the  queens  of  the 
earth,  and  yet  she  does  not  with  all  her  dignity,  mingle  any  sign 
of  hauteur.4 

With  the  ordeal  of  the  inaugural  ceremonies  over,  Lincoln 
turned  to  the  task  "greater,"  as  he  said,  "than  that  which  rested 
upon  Washington."5  Day  after  day  the  corridors  leading  to 
the  executive  offices  were  choked  with  a  surging  tide  of  office 
seekers  that  beat  relentlessly  upon  the  gaunt,  gloomy  man  who 
sat  at  the  big  walnut  desk  beneath  a  cracked  oil  painting  of 
doughty,  imperious  Andrew  Jackson. 

Henry  Clay's  son  Thomas,  a  stanch  Union  man,  interviewed 
Lincoln  and  next  day  recommended  the  appointment  of  Hiram 
Shaw  of  Lexington  and  William  V.  Wolfe  of  Louisville  as  army 
paymasters.  Lincoln  wrote  on  the  back  of  Clay's  letter:  "For 
the  sake  of  Kentucky  and  the  memory  of  Henry  Clay  I  would 
like  these  appointments  to  be  made  as  soon  as  practicable."6 

Kentuckians  especially  besieged  the  White  House  in  droves 
on  one  pretext  or  another.  The  Washington  newspapers  an- 
nounced the  presence  of  "100  Todds  and  all  wanting  office." 
Young,  ebullient  Sam  Suddarth,  who  had  been  a  delegate  from 
Kentucky  to  the  convention  that  had  nominated  Bell  and 
Everett,  wrote  back  home  a  jocular  account  of  his  trip  to 
Washington  and,  in  doing  so,  drew  the  most  vivid  description 
of  the  Lincoln  of  Civil  War  years  ever  recorded  by  a  Ken- 
tuckian. 

He  and  two  friends  from  Frankfort,  Kentucky,  who  felt 
that  they  had  claims  on  the  new  government,  spent  the  first 
night  of  their  journey  at  the  Burnet  House  in  Cincinnati. 
They  "left  next  morning  8c  that  day  passed  through  Ohio  to 
Pittsburgh— got  there  about  dark,  but  the  train  only  stopped 
ten  minutes."    Upon  arrival,  wrote  Suddarth, 


272  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

I  felt  a  little  dry,  and  knowing  I  had  but  10  minutes  to  go  on,  I 
struck  out  in  search  of  a  5  cent  house.  I  soon  found  it— green  doors 
you  know.  In  I  went,  called  out  the  liquor  8c  drank  and  gave  the 
keeper  a  dime,  he  commenced  very  slowly  to  hunt  up  the  change. 
I  soon  saw  his  game  that  he  would  delay  finding  the  change  until 
the  cars  starting  would  force  me  to  leave  without  it.  He  kept 
fumbling  for  the  change— the  whistle  sounded— what  must  be  done! 
Must  I  be  left  or  lose  my  five  cents?  Neither!  I  snatched  up  the 
bottle  and  took  another  pigdriver,  told  him  he  needn't  mind;  and 
with  a  loud  Ky.  laugh  jumped  aboard  and  sped  away  feeling  none 
the  worse  of  it. 

When  they  reached  Washington,  Suddarth  and  his  com- 
panions went  to  the  Executive  Mansion  and  announced  them- 
selves to  Lincoln's  secretary  as  "some  Gentlemen  from  Ky.  who 
desired  to  see  Mr.  president  on  business."  Soon  they  were 
ushered  into  his  office. 

Mr.  Lincoln  shook  us  cordially  by  the  hand  [said  Suddarth],  and 
received  us  in  so  natural  and  unostentatious  a  manner,  and  with 
that  kind  of  unaffected,  plain  and  native  urbanity,  as  to  dispel  all 
embarrassment  and  cause  us  to  feel  entirely  easy. 

His  conversational  powers  are  fine— and  his  custom  of  inter- 
spersing his  conversation  with  incidents,  anecdotes  and  witticisms 
are  well  calculated  to  impress  his  hearers  with  the  kindheartedness 
of  the  man.  And  they  are  so  adroitly  and  delicately  mingled  in  the 
thread  of  his  discourse  that  one  hardly  notices  the  digression.  His 
language  is  good,  though  not  select.  Yet  very  strong,  pointed  and 
forcible,  though  never  harsh.  His  sentences  exceedingly  short  though 
full  and  complete.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  some  of  his  political 
notions,  history  will  record  him  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
men  of  modern  times.  He  is  dignified  in  his  manners  and  address, 
without  austerity.    Self  poised  and  clear  in  his  perceptions.7 

However,  there  were  others  farther  south  who  sharply  dis- 
agreed with  Suddarth  about  Lincoln.  The  Louisville  Daily 
Courier  of  March  23,  1861,  widely  circulated  in  the  Bluegrass, 
carried  on  its  front  page  the  following  letter— omitting  signa- 
ture—which its  editor  said  he  had  received  from  a  prominent 
member  of  Congress. 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  273 

Willard  Hotel 
Washington 
March  1,  1861 
I  was  called  here  to  vote  in  the  House  and  will  return  to  Rich- 
mond tomorrow.  The  Republican  party  is  utterly  demoralized, 
disrupted  and  broken  up.  Cameron  and  Chase,  Weed  and  Greely 
can  never  affiliate.  Lincoln  is  a  cross  between  a  sand-hill  crane  and 
an  Andalusian  Jackass.  He  is,  by  all  odds,  the  weakest  man  who 
has  ever  been  elected— worse  than  Taylor  and  he  was  bad  enough. 
...  I  was  sent  for  by  him.  I  speak  what  I  know.  He  is  vain,  weak, 
puerile,  hypocritical,  without  manners,  without  social  grace,  and 
as  he  talks  to  you,  punches  his  fists  under  your  ribs.  He  swears 
equal  to  Uncle  Toby,  and  in  every  particular,  morally  and  mentally, 
I  have  lost  all  respect  for  him.  He  is  surrounded  by  a  set  of  toad 
eaters  and  bottle-throwers,  and  did  not  know  what  the  Adams 
amendment  was  until  I  told  him.  In  addition  to  this,  I  am  com- 
pletely satisfied  he  is  an  Abolitionist  of  the  Lovejoy  and  Sumner 
type.    Such  is  your  God;  Oh!  Israel! 

Late  in  March,  Mary's  cousin,  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  Todd, 
arrived  in  Washington  seeking  appointment  as  postmaster  at 
Lexington.  Though  Judge  Robertson,  Cassius  M.  Clay,  and 
other  friends  of  the  President  urged  the  claims  of  another  ap- 
plicant, Todd  got  the  job  without  much  effort.  On  the  day 
he  left  for  home,  while  Mary  waited  downstairs  with  the  car- 
riage to  take  him  to  the  train,  Todd  went  in  to  say  good-by 
to  the  President. 

"Doctor,"  said  Lincoln  with  a  warm  parting  handshake,  "I 
wish  you  would  see  that  the  Lexington  papers  are  sent  here 
to  the  White  House.  The  Observer  has  been  coming  to  our 
home  ever  since  Mary  and  I  were  married  and  I  reckon  there's 
no  better  weather-cock  for  Kentucky  politics  just  now."8 

The  Lexington  newspapers  were  as  divided  on  the  burning 
question  of  the  hour  as  were  their  readers.  The  Observer  called 
its  contemporary,  the  Statesman,  a  "disunion  paper,  open  and 
avowed,"  and  was  in  turn  sneer ingly  dubbed  by  it  a  "Lincoln 
administration   organ,   a   coercion,    subjugation   paper."     The 


274  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Observer  had  found  Lincoln's  inaugural  address  "temperate, 
peaceful  and  national,"  but  the  Statesman  declared  that  the 
people  of  the  Bluegrass  regarded  it  as  "radical,  sectional  and 
abhorrent.  .  .  .  Lincoln's  silly  speeches,  his  ill-timed  jocularity 
and  his  pusillanimous  evasion  of  responsibility  and  vulgar  pet- 
tifoggery," declared  that  secessionist  organ,  "have  no  parallel 
in  history,  save  the  crazy  capers  of  Caligula,  or  in  the  effeminate 
buffoonery  of  Henry  of  Valois."9 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Pratt  had  been  greatly  disturbed  about 
the  local  situation  since  the  firing  on  Fort  Sumter.  Next  day 
he  wrote  in  his  diary: 

News  reached  us  that  war  had  commenced  between  the  Federal 
and  Confederate  troops  at  Ft.  Sumter  in  the  harbor  of  South  Caro- 
lina. Our  hearts  are  filled  with  sadness  and  great  gloom  in  the 
community.  There  are  many  Secessionists  that  I  have  no  doubt 
rejoice  at  it,  for  its  effect  to  array  the  whole  south  to  a  united  Con- 
federacy against  the  north,  but  the  majority  of  people  in  Ky.  are 
union  men  &  it  is  distressing  to  us  to  see  sections  of  our  nation  thus 
arrayed  in  warlike  hostility  &  that  blood  has  commenced  to  flow. 
What  will  the  end  be?  The  Lord  only  knows.  I  have  prayed  &  so 
have  thousands  of  others  for  the  preservation  of  the  union.  But 
Jehovah  reigns  k  we  know  not  what  will  be  his  judgments  or  his 
mercies.10 

Hundreds  of  young  army  officers  were  resigning  their  com- 
missions to  join  the  Confederacy,  and  President  Lincoln,  cast- 
ing about  for  material  to  fill  these  vacancies,  sent  for  his  broth- 
er-in-law, Ben  Hardin  Helm.  Young  Helm  was  a  graduate  of 
West  Point,  the  son  of  a  former  governor  of  Kentucky,  a  stanch 
Democrat,  and  the  husband  of  "Little  Sister"  Emilie  Todd. 
Upon  his  arrival  in  Washington,  Lincoln  offered  his  kinsman 
a  commission  in  the  United  States  Army.  "Emilie  will  be  a 
belle  at  the  White  House  receptions  and  we  will  be  so  proud 
of  her,"  urged  Mary,  "and  we  need  handsome,  scholarly,  dig- 
nified young  men  like  yourself  to  ornament  our  army." 

"You  have  been  kind  and  generous  to  me  beyond  anything 
I  have  known,"  Helm  told  the  President.    "I  have  no  claim 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  275 

on  you  for  I  opposed  your  candidacy  and  did  what  I  could 
for  the  election  of  another,  but  with  no  unkindly  feelings  to- 
ward you."  He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "I  wish  I  could  see 
my  way— I  will  try  to  do  what  is  right,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 
"You  will  have  my  answer  in  a  few  days."11 

During  the  remainder  of  the  week  Lincoln's  young  brother- 
in-law  wrestled  mightily  with  fate.  He  saw  many  of  his  old 
comrades  of  West  Point  days  and  had  a  long  talk  with  Colonel 
Robert  E.  Lee,  who  had  just  sent  in  his  resignation  to  the 
secretary  of  war.  But  he  was  still  undecided  as  he  left  the 
White  House  for  Kentucky. 

"Ben,"  said  Lincoln,  handing  Helm  an  envelope  which  con- 
tained a  major's  commission,  "here  is  something  for  you. 
Think  it  over  for  yourself  and  let  me  know  what  you  will  do." 

"Good-by,"  said  Mary,  sending  a  kiss  for  Emilie,  "we  hope 
very  soon  to  see  you  both  in  Washington."12 

The  two  men  lingeringly  clasped  hands,  and  then  Helm 
walked  slowly  down  the  stairs  and  out  to  meet  the  Yankee 
bullet  that  awaited  him  on  the  distant  gory  battlefield  of  Chick- 
amauga. 

Other  Lexington  friends  called  at  the  White  House  during 
these  early  days.  The  visits  of  Senator  John  C.  Breckinridge 
were  always  occasions  for  caustic  badinage  between  Mary  and 
the  friend  of  her  childhood. 

"Cousin  Lizzie,"  said  Breckinridge  teasingly  one  evening 
to  Mary's  cousin,  Mrs.  Grimsley,  "I  would  not  like  you  to  be 
disappointed  in  your  expected  stay  at  the  White  House,  so  I 
will  now  invite  you  to  remain  here  as  a  guest,  when  the  Con- 
federacy takes  possession." 

"We  will  be  only  too  happy  to  entertain  her  until  that  time, 
Senator,"  quickly  replied  Mrs.  Lincoln  with  lofty  sarcasm.13 

The  middle  of  April,  1861,  found  Washington  feverish 
with  anxiety.  The  Stars  and  Stripes  had  been  hauled  down 
from  the  shattered  ramparts  of  Fort  Sumter.  Virginia  had  se- 
ceded.  Riots  were  imminent  at  Baltimore.   Lincoln  had  issued 


276  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

a  call  for  75,000  volunteers.  It  was  rumored  that  Harpers 
Ferry  had  fallen  and  that  a  large  force  of  Confederate  troops 
was  marching  on  Washington.  Alarmists  crowded  the  corri- 
dors of  the  Executive  Mansion,  striving  to  reach  the  President 
with  lurid  warnings  of  a  mob  that  was  about  to  storm  the 
White  House  and  carry  him  off  across  the  Potomac. 

Except  for  a  company  of  regulars  from  Minnesota  and  a 
small  detachment  of  unarmed  Pennsylvania  volunteers,  Wash- 
ington lay  undefended  from  treason  within  and  assault  from 
without.  In  a  frantic  effort  to  make  every  possible  show  of 
military  force,  the  government  announced  that  arms  would 
gladly  be  furnished  to  all  patriotic  citizens  who  offered  their 
service  in  defense  of  the  city.  Throughout  these  perilous  days 
and  sleepless  nights  Lincoln  bore  the  terrible  suspense  with 
outward  calm,  but  some  of  the  weight  must  have  been  lifted 
from  his  heavy  heart  by  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes  as  he  drove 
out  of  the  White  House  grounds  on  the  afternoon  of  April  18. 

Up  Pennsylvania  Avenue  came  the  tramp  of  marching  feet. 
Swinging  around  the  corner  of  the  Treasury  was  a  column  of 
more  than  two  hundred  men,  young,  vigorous,  upstanding 
chaps.  They  were  without  uniforms  and  there  was  no  rhythm 
in  their  step,  but  their  belts  bulged  with  cartridges,  and  each 
man  carried  a  new  untarnished  musket  on  his  shoulder.  At 
the  head  of  the  motley  company,  with  long  easy  strides  marched 
a  tall,  erect,  sinewy  individual  of  robust  middle  age,  whose 
thick  dark  hair  was  turning  slightly  gray  above  the  temples. 
With  a  big  cavalry  saber  buckled  about  his  waist  and  a  wicked- 
looking,  horn-handle  knife  strapped  across  his  broad  chest,  he 
seemed  in  buoyant  spirits  at  the  prospects  of  approaching  con- 
flict. Lincoln  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  this  jaunty  crusader 
was  Cash  Clay  of  Kentucky,  who  had  hastily  organized  a  band 
of  rollicking  young  adventurers  called  the  "Clay  Battalion," 
that  was  now  on  its  way  to  the  defense  of  the  navy  yard.14 
When  in  a  few  days  regular  military  enforcements  began  to 
arrive  in  Washington  and  the  immediate  peril  was  over,  the 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  277 

President  issued  an  order  thanking  Clay  for  his  services.  Call- 
ing him  to  the  White  House,  Lincoln  presented  him  with  a 
Colt's  revolver  "as  a  testimonial  of  his  regards."15 

In  this  interview  Clay  found  the  President  deeply  anxious 
about  Kentucky.16  The  Lexington  newspapers  that  came  twice 
a  week  reflected  the  gravity  of  the  situation  along  this  most 
important  border  line  of  the  South.  The  fall  of  Fort  Sumter 
had  been  greeted  by  the  wildest  rejoicing  from  the  young  men 
of  the  Bluegrass.  A  week  later  an  armed  company  of  volun- 
teers from  Cynthiana,  with  the  Confederate  flag  flying,  had 
passed  through  Lexington  amid  cheers  for  "Jeff  Davis  and 
Beauregard."  John  Hunt  Morgan,  captain  of  the  Lexington 
Rifles,  had  wired  Jefferson  Davis:  "Twenty  thousand  men  can 
be  raised  to  defend  Southern  liberty  against  Northern  con- 
quest.   Do  you  want  them?" 

His  brother,  Dick  Morgan,  was  "manufacturing  a  most 
beautiful  and  durable  grey  jean  cloth  expressly  for  the  State 
Guard  uniform."  The  advertisement  stated  significantly  that 
the  jean  was  of  the  "right  color."17 

The  members  of  the  Todd  family  with  but  two  exceptions 
were  warmly  supporting  the  new  Confederacy.  Mrs.  Lincoln's 
oldest  brother  Levi,  now  almost  an  invalid,  was  for  the  Union, 
as  was  also  her  half  sister,  Margaret  Kellogg.18  But  her  young- 
est brother  George  and  three  half  brothers— Samuel,  David, 
and  Alexander— had  already  joined  the  "rebel  Army,"  while 
her  half  sisters— Emilie  Helm,  Martha  White,  and  Elodie  Daw- 
son—were  the  wives  of  Confederate  officers. 

"When  the  Lincoln  Administration  inaugurated  Civil  War 
the  people  of  Kentucky,  if  we  may  judge  by  the  feeling  in 
Lexington,  by  one  spontaneous  movement  have  rallied  in  un- 
broken columns  to  the  side  of  their  Southern  brethren,"  said 
the  Statesman,  referring  to  Lincoln  as  the  "miserable  imbecil 
that  now  disgraces  the  Presidential  chair."19 

John  C.  Breckinridge  in  an  address  to  the  citizens  of  Lex- 
ington on  April  18  had  declared  that  the  "only  means  by  which 


278  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

a  general  civil  war  can  be  prevented  is  to  confront  Mr.  Lincoln 
with  fifteen  united  compact  states  to  warn  him  that  his  unholy 
war  is  to  be  waged  against  13,000,000  of  freemen  and  fifteen 
sovereign  states."20 

"I  joined  the  Home  Guards  on  Friday,"  wrote  the  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Pratt  on  April  28,  "&  we  elected  Dr.  E.  Dudley  as 
our  Captain,  near  200  of  the  citizens  enrolled  their  names.  In 
these  times  of  War  &  confusion  it  becomes  necessary  to  defend 
our  homes." 

James  B.  Clay,  the  son  of  Henry  Clay,  had  espoused  "a 
united  South,"  while  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  Jr.,  was  organiz- 
ing a  military  company  for  service  under  the  Stars  and  Bars. 
Captain  Morgan  had  a  "most  beautiful  Confederate  States  Flag 
afloat  over  his  woollen  factory,"  and  "other  flags  of  similar 
character"  were  being  "raised  throughout  the  city."21  "Lincoln 
has  been  drunk  ever  since  his  inauguration,"  reported  the 
Statesman,  "only  going  out  at  night  in  disguise  to  escape  assas- 
sination."22 

For  several  hours  Cash  Clay  and  the  President  discussed 
the  border  situation  in  all  its  aspects.  Clay  expressed  the  con- 
viction that  such  men  as  Dr.  Breckinridge,  General  Leslie 
Combs,  Judge  William  C.  Goodloe,  Benjamin  Gratz,  and  Judge 
Richard  A.  Buckner  would  never  allow  Kentucky  to  secede. 
He  pointed  out  that  these  stalwart  champions  of  the  federal 
government  were  fortunately  located  in  the  heart  of  the  region 
which  must  furnish  the  impetus  for  an  alliance  with  the  Con- 
federacy. Lincoln  was  much  encouraged  by  this  interview  with 
Clay,  but  an  event  shortly  occurred  which  dealt  a  serious  blow 
to  the  Union  cause  in  the  Bluegrass. 

At  two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  May  24,  1861,  under  a 
brilliant  moon,  Colonel  Elmer  Ellsworth  landed  his  famous 
regiment  of  Zouaves  at  Alexandria,  Virginia,  the  first  Union 
troops  to  invade  the  Old  Dominion.  A  small  detachment  of 
rebel  cavalry  was  captured,  and  the  town  was  soon  occupied, 
pickets  were  posted,   and  the  soldiers  were  quartered,   when 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  279 

Colonel  Ellsworth  noticed  a  Confederate  flag  hoisted  over  the 
principal  hotel,  called  the  Marshall  House. 

"Whose  flag  is  that  flying  over  this  house?"  demanded  the 
colonel  as  he  entered  the  lobby.  Receiving  an  evasive  answer, 
he  dashed  up  the  stairs  with  several  soldiers  at  his  heels,  mount- 
ed to  the  roof,  cut  the  halyards,  and  started  down  with  the 
flag  under  his  arm.  As  he  reached  the  second  landing,  a  door 
swung  open;  the  owner  of  the  premises,  James  T.  Jackson, 
sprang  out  and  discharged  both  barrels  of  a  shotgun  into  Col- 
onel Ellsworth's  breast,  killing  him  instantly.  A  moment  later 
Jackson's  body  was  dragged  down  the  stairs,  impaled  upon 
the  bayonets  of  Ellsworth's  infuriated  comrades.  The  first 
blood  of  the  Civil  War  had  been  shed  on  secession  soil. 

The  death  of  Colonel  Ellsworth  was  Lincoln's  first  sorrow 
in  the  great  conflict.23  Having  been  virtually  a  member  of  the 
President's  household,  the  young  soldier's  mutilated  body  was 
brought  back  to  Washington  and  buried  from  the  East  Room 
of  the  White  House.  But  in  Kentucky  tears  were  shed  only 
for  his  slayer,  who  was  the  youngest  brother  of  Dr.  John  Jack- 
son of  Lexington.  Indignation  ran  high  at  the  news  of  his 
death.  Those  who  favored  secession  now  cited  the  tragedy  as 
an  example  of  "Lincoln's  despotism"  and  urged  Dr.  Jackson's 
many  friends  to  avenge  the  "murder"  of  his  brother  by  shoul- 
dering arms  for  the  South. 

"We  rejoice  in  the  death  of  Ellsworth  and  only  regret  that 
every  man  who  followed  him  did  not  share  the  same  fate," 
exclaimed  the  Statesman.  "Mr.  Jackson  was  too  noble  a  man 
to  fall  a  victim  to  the  infamous  thieves  of  Ellsworth's  regiment. 
.  .  .  We  but  express  the  heartfelt  sympathy  of  every  true  South- 
ern man  in  this  community,  when  we  tender  to  our  fellow 
citizen  our  sincere  condolence."24 

On  the  very  day  of  Colonel  Ellsworth's  death  the  Kentucky 
legislature,  having  proclaimed  neutrality,  with  a  Senate  resolu- 
tion "That  Kentucky  will  not  sever  her  relation  with  the  Na- 
tional government,"  adjourned  sine  die.  Since  January  it  had 
remained  in  almost  continuous   session.     Governor   Magoffin 


280  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

and  his  henchmen  had  made  determined  efforts  to  force  a 
resolution  of  secession,  but  throughout  the  protracted  struggle 
they  had  been  thwarted  at  every  turn  by  Robert  J.  Breckin- 
ridge and  his  little  band  of  loyal  followers  from  the  Bluegrass. 
Joshua  Speed  and  his  brother  James  from  Louisville  had  ren- 
dered invaluable  aid,  but  the  burden  of  leadership  had  fallen 
upon  the  grizzled,  pugnacious  foe  of  rebellion,  Dr.  Breckin- 
ridge. 

Since  his  fast  day  sermon  on  January  4,  through  the  press 
and  from  the  platform  Breckinridge  had  wielded  a  mighty 
influence  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union  and  against  the 
secession  of  his  beloved  state.  His  paper,  the  Quarterly  Re- 
view, breathing  the  strongest  sentiments  of  loyalty  to  the  Lin- 
coln administration,  went  regularly  into  thousands  of  homes 
in  Kentucky,  Missouri,  and  Maryland.  And  now  that  the  legis- 
lature had  adjourned  with  Kentucky  still  in  the  Union,  the 
Doctor  was  swamped  by  congratulations  from  many  parts  of 
the  country.25 

Not  a  few  correspondents,  however,  took  him  to  task  for 
his  hostility  to  the  Confederacy.  "You  have  done  more  than 
anyone  else  to  bring  about  the  present  condition  of  affairs  in 
your  State,"  complained  a  citizen  of  Carthage,  Tennessee.  "Cut 
loose  from  the  Bogus  government  at  Washington,  and  let  us 
build  up  a  model  government  in  the  Sunny  South."26 

For  several  months  following  Lincoln's  election  Kentucky 
had  drifted  steadily  toward  secession.  Now  the  tide  seemed 
to  have  turned,  and  the  President  hastened  to  extend  every 
possible  aid  to  the  embattled  Unionists  of  his  native  state.  By 
the  first  of  June  Major  Anderson,  the  hero  of  Fort  Sumter, 
himself  a  Kentuckian,  arrived  in  the  Bluegrass.  He  carried  a 
special  commission  which  authorized  him  to  recruit  as  many 
volunteer  regiments  as  were  willing  to  enlist  in  the  service  of 
the  United  States. 

Major  Anderson  found  three  splendidly  equipped  military 
companies  in  Lexington:    the  Rifles,  the  "Chasseurs,"  and  the 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  281 

Old  Infantry.  The  latter  two  organizations  were  for  the  Union 
almost  to  a  man,  but  the  Rifles,  commanded  by  the  dashing 
John  Hunt  Morgan,  leaned  strongly  toward  the  South. 

Captain  G.  L.  Postlethwaite  and  Jesse  Bayles,  Robert  S. 
Todd's  old  political  ally  and  Lincoln's  personal  friend,  were 
raising  four  companies  of  volunteers,  who  by  the  middle  of 
June  were  parading  in  "blue  flannels"  on  Cheapside. 

Major  Anderson's  first  report  to  the  President  on  condi- 
tions in  central  Kentucky  was  undoubtedly  encouraging.  In 
Lexington  and  Fayette  County  the  underlying  loyalty  of  the 
people  was  beginning  to  assert  itself  with  cohesive  force,  much 
to  the  chagrin  of  the  secession  press. 

On  June  14  the  Henry  Clay  monument  was  completed  in 
the  Lexington  cemetery.  "  'When  the  statue  was  placed  upon 
the  capstone,'  "  quoted  the  Statesman  from  the  Observer,  "  'a 
flagstaff  being  fastened  to  the  extended  right  hand  of  the  figure, 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  were  unfurled  amid  hearty  cheers  from 
the  spectators  beneath.'  Were  that  great  man  now  living," 
added  the  Statesman  in  disgust,  "we  solemnly  believe  he  would 
trample  upon  that  emblem  of  a  perverted  government  and  a 
violated  constitution."27 

Lexington  was  beginning  to  receive  her  share  of  the  five 
thousand  "Lincoln  guns"  that  had  been  shipped  to  Louisville 
for  distribution  to  loyal  citizens  throughout  Kentucky,  and 
old  and  young  were  being  secretly  taught  the  manual  of  arms. 

"We  have  in  each  ward  four  companies  of  Union  men," 
wrote  David  Sayre,  seventy- four  years  of  age,  "but  we  are  only 
half  armed.  My  back  office  is  quite  an  armory,  having  received 
guns  and  revolvers  from  Louisville  and  Cincinnati  last  week 
wherewith  to  arm  our  gallant  followers,  who  are  unable  to 
incur  the  expense  of  procuring  weapons."28 

Meanwhile,  the  President  was  keeping  a  cautious  eye  on 
the  situation  in  Lexington,  as  indicated  by  the  following  letter: 
"Executive  Mansion.  July  29,  1861.  Gentlemen  of  the  Ken- 
tucky delegation,  who  are  for  the  Union— I  somewhat  wish  to 
authorize  my  friend  Jesse  Bayles  to  raise  a  Kentucky  Regiment; 


282  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

but  I  do  not  wish  to  do  it  without  your  consent.  If  you  con- 
sent, please  write  so,  at  the  bottom  of  this.  Yours  truly  A. 
Lincoln."29  And  a  week  later  he  mildly  urged  the  proposition 
again  in  a  postscript:  "I  repeat,  I  would  like  for  Col.  Bayles 
to  raise  a  Regiment  of  Cavalry,  whenever  the  Union  men  of 
Kentucky,  desire,  or  consent  to  it.  Aug.  5,  1861.  A.  Lincoln." 
The  Fourth  of  July,  1861,  gave  the  Unionists  of  the  Blue- 
grass  an  opportunity  to  demonstrate  their  strength,  and  they 
made  the  most  of  it  by  a  mammoth  celebration  at  Lexington. 
More  than  twenty  thousand  people  were  in  town  that  day. 
The  monument  to  Henry  Clay  was  formally  dedicated,  the 
four  companies  of  Home  Guards  paraded,  and  John  Harlan 
delivered  a  "grand  oration"  at  the  fair  grounds.30  The  en- 
thusiasm of  the  occasion  gave  a  decisive  impetus  to  the  candi- 
dacy of  Judge  Richard  A.  Buckner,  who  was  seeking  re-election 
to  the  legislature  against  James  B.  Clay,  an  avowed  disunionist. 
Buckner  had  been  a  faithful  supporter  of  the  Lincoln  govern- 
ment at  the  recent  session  and  had  incurred  the  bitter  enmity 
of  those  who  would  array  Kentucky  with  the  South.  "It  can- 
not be  truthfully  denied,"  said  the  Statesman,  "that  as  Legis- 
lator he  was  behind  none  other  in  the  House  in  giving  to  Ken- 
tucky her  present  apparent  position  of  cordial  support  of  the 
Lincoln  administration."31 

While  Lexington  was  celebrating  Independence  Day,  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  delivered  his  first  message  to  the  Thirty-Seventh 
Congress  assembled  in  special  session.  He  reviewed  the  out- 
break of  rebellion,  the  efforts  of  the  government  to  maintain 
its  territorial  integrity,  the  assault  on  Fort  Sumter,  his  call  for 
volunteers,  and  the  present  state  of  the  country.  The  latter 
part  of  the  message  was  devoted  to  an  extensive  analysis  of  the 
"State  Sovereignty"  doctrine  under  which  the  South  claimed 
the  constitutional  right  to  withdraw  from  the  Union.  Tracing 
the  political  history  of  the  nation  from  the  days  of  colonial 
dependence,  he  showed  that  none  of  the  states  except  Texas 
ever  was  a  sovereignty  and  that  even  she  had  surrendered  this 
status  on  coming  into  the  Union.32 


I     I  Ea^lk 


■»*»|B*B  B*S  BBft*»BB'i9      JW».  SB* 

LEXfNCiTOX.  OC  TOBEB    3d,  1862. 


OEISrEJFtAlL.    ORDERS   3XTo.    132. 

The  Genera!  Commanding  i««d  hoped  that  the  Currency  of  the  Con- 
federals Mute*  would  have  been  t&kesi  tit  its  pat*  value.  <nod  that  bo  ef- 
fort would  be  made  to  depreciate  it.  He  regret  s  to  find  (hi  he  has  been 
disappointed,  and  that  tbe  Oi«dor-«Hretofoi  e  issued  Kh^Jmcii  tni*uuder 
•food,  t  on  f  Me  rate  Honey  has  been  refit 
orbit  ant  rates  ha  ve  been  demanded. 


tsed  by  some,  and  by  others  ex.* 


The  payment  by  the  Government  for  supplies  in  Confederate  money 
carries  with  it  the  obligation  to  protect  its  circulation.  All  efforts  to 
discredit  it  most  cense. 

To  avoid  any  further  misunderstand ina,  it  is  ordered  that  the  curren- 
cy of  the  Confederate  Ma u  *  be  taken  at  its  pur  value  in  all  transactions 
whatever,  public  or  private. 

The  refusal  to  take  it,  or  the  exaction  of  exorbitant  rates,  will  ho 
treated  as  a  military  offence/and  punished  accordingly. 

By  command  of  Gen.  BRAXTON  BRAGG. 


GEORGE  WM.  BRENT, 


Chief  of  fsitaff  Ac  A.  A.  G. 


Handbill  ordering  acceptance  of  Confederate  money  in 
Lexington.    Original  in  Coleman  Collection 


Yankees  in  the  courthouse  yard 


Portrait  of   Judge 
George  Robertson 

Courtesy  of  Mrs. 
Wallace  Muir 


General  John  Hunt 
Morgan 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  283 

The  message  was  a  convincing  document,  sound,  firm,  calm, 
and  dignified  in  tone.  Throughout  the  North  it  was  received 
with  approbation,  and  the  loyal  element  of  the  Border  States 
greeted  it  with  an  applause  that  brought  Dr.  Breckinridge 
strongly  into  the  limelight.  The  President  had  used  in  his 
message  the  state  sovereignty  argument  of  the  Doctor's  fast 
day  sermon  at  Lexington,  and  friends  from  many  parts  of  the 
country  wrote  him  letters  of  warm  congratulations  upon  Lin- 
coln's recent  endorsement  of  his  views. 

"Ask  your  Pa  (for  I  forgot  to  speak  of  it  in  my  letter  to 
him)  if  he  noticed  that  President  Lincoln  in  his  late  message 
copied  some  of  the  very  language  which  he  used  in  his  first 
article  on  the  state  of  the  country?"  wrote  R.  W.  Landis  from 
St.  Louis.  "He  did,  &  I  tell  you  I  felt  proud  &  mentioned  it 
to  the  people  here."33 

It  was  reported  that  you  were  in  Washington  [wrote  D.  R.  Hap- 
persett  to  Breckinridge],  and  I  mentioned  it  to  the  President,  with 
whom  I  have  become  pretty  well  acquainted.  He  asked  me  with  a 
good  deal  of  earnestness  whether  I  had  seen  you  and  intimated  that 
he  hardly  supposed  that  you  had  been  in  the  city  without  letting 
him  know  it.  He  evidently  wanted  to  see  you,  and  spoke  in  the 
highest  terms  of  you.    I  regret  that  you  did  not  visit  Washington. 

I  alluded  to  your  article  on  the  state  of  our  country  as  being 
entirely  the  most  satisfactory  and  conclusive  on  that  subject  of  all 
that  had  been  written.  He  seemed  familiar  with  it  as  I  supposed 
he  was  from  his  message  to  Congress.  That  whole  argument  about 
state  sovereignty  &c  was  yours.  He  is  your  warm  friend,  and  I  am 
sure  that  you  are  his  in  the  vigorous  prosecution  of  this  war.  The 
truth  is,  we  are  looking  to  you  for  the  support  of  Kentucky  to  the 
general  government  more  than  to  any  living  man.  May  God 
strengthen  and  support  you  in  your  noble  efforts  in  this  our  coun- 
try's struggle.  Keep  Kentucky  right  and  we  will  take  care  of  Mis- 
souri and  re-establish  our  supremacy  over  the  whole  land  after  a 
little  while.34 

Four  weeks  after  Lexington's  Fourth  of  July  celebration, 
Judge  Buckner  defeated  James  B.  Clay  for  the  legislature  by 
an  overwhelming  majority,  and  when  the  General  Assembly 
convened  at  Frankfort  in  September,  the  loyalty  of  that  body 


284  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

was  demonstrated  by  the  selection  of  the  Lexington  jurist  for 
speaker  of  the  House.  "The  Legislature,"  observed  the  States- 
man^ "dissipates  the  last  pretense  of  neutrality,  and  places  Ken- 
tucky so  far  as  the  Legislature  can  do,  in  attitude  of  hostility 
to  the  South."35 

On  Thursday  evening,  September  19,  1861,  the  first  Union 
troops,  the  Fourteenth  Ohio,  fifteen  hundred  strong,  arrived 
in  Lexington  and  went  into  camp  at  the  fair  grounds.  A  few 
days  later  3,500  more  marched  into  town.  "A  fine  looking 
body  of  men,"  observed  the  Reverend  Mr.  Pratt,  "well  dressed 
and  provisioned.  I  mingled  freely  among  them  &  was  interested 
in  their  talk,  they  seemed  to  be  quiet  &  under  good  military 
discipline.    A  striking  fact— only  40  voted  for  Lincoln."36 

The  soldiers,  however,  had  scarcely  pitched  their  tents  be- 
fore sharp  clashes  began  to  occur  with  local  citizens  who  were 
infuriated  by  the  sight  of  blue  jackets.  The  Phoenix  Hotel, 
where  John  C.  Breckinridge  boarded,  had  long  been  head- 
quarters for  southern  sympathizers,  and  trouble  started  here 
immediately.  A  squad  of  "Yankees"  passing  along  the  street 
were  fired  upon,  as  they  claimed,  from  an  upstairs  window, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  building  was  surrounded  by  a  bat- 
talion of  infantry,  a  troop  of  cavalry,  and  several  pieces  of  field 
artillery.  The  place  was  then  thoroughly  searched  from  top 
to  bottom,  but  the  offender  had  escaped,  and  the  best  that 
Captain  Buford  could  do  was  to  warn  the  proprietor  that  if 
an  incident  occurred  again,  he  would  burn  the  old  landmark 
to  the  ground.37 

On  the  following  Sunday  morning  the  town  was  thrown 
into  another  uproar  by  the  wounding  of  two  men  as  they 
passed  one  of  the  camps  in  a  buggy  shouting:  "Hooray  for 
Jeff  Davis."  And  on  Tuesday  a  detachment  of  cavalry  clat- 
tered up  to  the  printing  office  of  the  Statesman  and  notified 
the  vitriolic  editor  that  his  newspaper  was  indefinitely  sus- 
pended.38 

For  the  preceding  day  the  Reverend  Mr.  Pratt  wrote:  "I 
saw  J.   B.   Clay  &   16  other  political  prisoners  brought  from 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  285 

Camp  Robinson  under  a  strong  military  guard  &  sent  imme- 
diately to  Louisville.  I  felt  sad  at  the  spectacle,  to  see  the  son 
of  the  distinguished  statesman  in  durance  vile,  brought  through 
his  native  city,  not  permitted  to  visit  his  family  or  to  speak  to 
anyone,  he  looked  bad,  but  he  had  no  business  to  defy  his  state 
or  the  military  or  to  go  to  join  the  enemy." 

Pratt's  strong  stand  for  the  Union  had  already  begun  to 
divide  his  congregation,  as  he  discovered  when  he  called  on  a 
sick  member.  "Visited  Bro.  Taylor,  he  was  hurt  with  me  be- 
cause I  shook  hands  with  Federal  soldiers  &  invited  some  of- 
ficers to  dine  with  me.  He  got  on  the  War  &  worked  himself 
up  to  such  a  fever  of  excitement,  I  was  afraid  he  would  go 
into  spasms."39 

For  weeks  it  had  been  rumored  that  Captain  John  Hunt 
Morgan  was  about  to  march  his  Lexington  Rifles  southward, 
and  when  the  Union  troops  arrived,  Morgan  had  good  reason 
to  fear  that  his  company  would  be  speedily  disarmed.  So  on 
Friday  night,  September  20,  1861,  while  his  men  tramped 
heavily  over  the  armory  floor  to  avert  suspicion,  a  picked  guard 
slipped  out  of  the  city  with  the  company's  guns  packed  in  two 
wagons  filled  with  hay.  Next  evening  Captain  Morgan  and 
fifty  of  the  finest  youngsters  of  the  Bluegrass  quietly  assembled 
at  the  edge  of  town  and  galloped  off  down  the  Versailles  Pike 
in  the  twilight  for  the  Confederate  rendezvous  on  the  Green 
River.40 

Lexington  was  now  under  military  rule  and  would  remain 
so  for  many  months.  With  batteries  of  artillery  parked  on 
Cheapside,  squads  of  Yankees  camped  in  the  courthouse  yard, 
and  the  Stars  and  Stripes  fluttering  from  a  dozen  flagstaffs,  it 
was  difficult  to  realize  that  scarcely  six  months  had  passed 
since  Dr.  Breckinridge  had  been  the  only  citizen  of  the  town 
who  dared  to  denounce  secession  and  pledge  loyalty  to  his 
government  in  a  public  speech. 

No  man  from  Baltimore  to  St.  Louis  was  now  quite  so 
influential  in  the  Border  States  as  was  the  Doctor.    The  sound 


286  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

common  sense,  fiery  eloquence,  and  lofty  patriotism  o£  his 
speeches  and  articles  in  the  Review  had  quickened  many  fal- 
tering hearts  during  the  dark,  chaotic  months.  And  as  the 
first  tragic  year  of  the  Civil  War  drew  to  a  close,  the  brilliant 
Lexingtonian  stood  high  in  the  confidence  and  gratitude  of 
Abraham  Lincoln. 

"I  hear  it  repeated  that  there  is  a  probability  of  your  being 
called  at  this  perilous  crisis  to  take  part  in  the  official  manage- 
ment of  our  national  interests,"  wrote  Samuel  J.  Baird  of  New 
Jersey.  "I  trust  it  may  be  so  &  that  if  any  overtures  on  the 
subject  should  be  made  to  you,  you  will  not  decline."41 

Dr.  L.  B.  Todd,  who  had  just  returned  from  Washington, 
also  dropped  a  note  to  Dr.  Breckinridge  at  "Braedalbane,"  his 
country  seat:  "I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  yes  /  feel  assured  that 
there  must  very  shortly  be  a  vacancy  in  the  Cabinet— that  sec- 
retary Cameron  must  be  removed  and  that  a  good  Providence 
indicates  yourself  as  the  most  suitable,  worthy  and  exactly  the 
Statesman  and  Patriot  to  become  his  successor."42 

But  while  the  Doctor  received  the  acclaim  of  his  country- 
men, the  bright  star  of  his  nephew's  fame  was  slipping  into 
the  shadows  of  a  long  eclipse.  Handsome,  genial,  eloquent, 
with  a  personality  of  singular  sweetness  and  charm,  the  most 
imposing  figure  on  horseback  in  all  Kentucky,  John  C.  Breck- 
inridge had  been  congressman,  senator,  Vice-President,  and 
the  nominee  of  his  party  for  the  highest  office  in  the  nation 
before  he  was  forty  years  of  age.  Reared  like  Jefferson  Davis 
and  Alexander  Stephens  in  a  school  of  statesmanship  that 
taught  first  allegiance  to  the  principles  of  local  sovereignty, 
he  now  abandoned  one  of  the  most  brilliant  careers  in  Amer- 
ican politics  to  answer  the  call  of  duty  as  he  understood  it. 
But  before  he  put  on  the  uniform  of  a  Confederate  major 
general,  Breckinridge  came  back  to  Kentucky  and  returned 
his  commission  as  United  States  senator  in  a  touching  address 
to  the  electorate  of  his  state.43 

His  embittered  colleagues  at  Washington,  however,  would 
not  have  it  so.   There  must  be  a  permanent  record  of  Breckin- 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  287 

ridge's  "infamy."  And  on  December  4,  1861,  the  following 
resolution  was  unanimously  adopted  by  the  Senate:  "Whereas 
John  C.  Breckinridge,  a  member  of  this  body  from  the  state 
of  Kentucky  has  joined  the  enemies  of  his  country,  and  is  now 
in  arms  against  his  country  he  had  sworn  to  support:  There- 
fore, Resolved  that  John  C.  Breckinridge,  the  traitor,  be  and 
he  is  hereby  expelled  from  the  Senate."44 

On  January  4,  1862,  the  Unionists  elected  a  full  city  ticket 
in  Lexington,  and  Dr.  Breckinridge,  Postmaster  Todd,  Ben- 
jamin Gratz,  and  other  loyal  citizens  started  a  fund  for  the 
"special  benefit  of  families  of  those  who  volunteeed  in  defense 
of  our  state;  of  the  union  of  the  United  States,  and  for  the 
preservation  of  the  laws  and  constitution." 

The  Doctor  had  incurred  by  this  time  the  abiding  hatred 
of  all  secessionists.  Threats  were  being  made  to  kidnap  his 
young  son  John,  and  while  the  old  theologian  issued  notice 
that  if  any  harm  came  to  the  boy,  he  "would  hold  every  Seces- 
sionist responsible,"  he  was  attacked  from  another  quarter. 
Realizing  the  tremendous  influence  of  the  Review  throughout 
the  Border  States,45  his  enemies  now  sought  to  suppress  its 
further  appearance,  and  the  printing  establishment  that  pub- 
lished the  paper  not  only  declined  to  issue  it  again  but  de- 
stroyed the  mailing  list  of  subscribers. 

However,  upon  the  exposure  of  the  plot,  financial  aid  and 
new  subscriptions  poured  in  from  all  over  the  country,  to  the 
utter  discomfiture  of  the  conspirators.46  "I  cannot  express  to 
you  my  regret  that  one  of  my  family  should  attempt  the  de- 
struction of  that  valuable  and  Patriotic  Review,  so  magnani- 
mously devoted  to  the  support  of  the  Government,"  wrote  Dr. 
Todd,  "but  in  place  of  him,  I  hereby  pledge  to  you  every 
effort  I  am  able  to  make,  every  influence  I  can  possibly  exert 
in  placing  upon  a  broader  basis  and  for  a  wider  circulation 
the  excellent  Review."47 

The  assaults  on  his  paper  only  served  to  spur  Dr.  Breckin- 
ridge to  greater  effort.  Now  that  the  danger  of  secession  seemed 
past  in  Kentucky,  he  accepted  an  invitation  from  the  citizens 


288  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

of  Cincinnati  to  aid  them  in  their  drive  for  enlistments,  and 
on  Tuesday  evening,  May  20,  1862,  he  delivered  an  address 
on  the  "state  of  the  country"  to  an  audience  that  rocked  the 
Opera  House  with  wild  applause. 

"Mr.  Breckinridge,"  said  the  Cincinnati  newspapers,  "is  a 
tall  gentleman,  apparently  sixty  years  of  age  or  upward,  wear- 
ing a  beard  which,  upon  the  immediate  side  of  each  cheek  is 
of  a  dark  iron-gray  color,  and  directly  beneath  his  chin  it  is 
snowy  white.  .  .  .  The  address  fully  convinced  his  hearers  of 
his  wonderful  powers,  being  clothed  in  eloquent  language, 
and  delivered  in  a  voice  of  distinct  intonation  heard  in  every 
part  of  the  house."48 

A  few  days  later  the  Doctor  hurried  back  to  Lexington  and 
assumed  the  burden  of  a  task  by  which  he  hoped  to  discourage 
further  Confederate  enlistments  in  the  Bluegrass.  Besides  his 
nephew  and  a  son-in-law,  two  of  his  sons,  the  joy  and  pride  of 
his  declining  years,  were  wearing  the  gray  somewhere  in  Dixie, 
and  though  it  wrung  his  heart  like  Abraham  of  old,  he  would 
not  swerve  from  the  path  of  duty,  not  even  for  the  sake  of  his 
own  flesh  and  blood. 

Following  a  consultation  with  Judge  William  C.  Goodloe 
a  special  session  of  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court  was  convened, 
after  Lincoln's  cousin,  County  Judge  Charles  D.  Carr,  had  been 
threatened  with  arrest  before  he  would  open  the  courthouse. 
A  grand  jury  was  quickly  impaneled  and  Foreman  Benjamin 
Gratz  reported  indictments  for  treason  against  John  Hunt 
Morgan,  John  C.  Breckinridge,  William  C.  Preston,  James  B. 
Clay,  and  thirty  other  young  men  of  Fayette  County— and  the 
names  of  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  Jr.,  and  W.  C.  P.  Breckin- 
ridge, the  Doctor's  boys,  were  near  the  top  of  the  list.49 

Benjamin  Gratz  was  one  of  the  stanchest  Union  men  in 
Kentucky,  but  like  many  others  he  had  "rebel"  friends  and 
relatives  who  now  and  then  sought  his  aid  and  protection. 
When  he  wired  Lincoln  about  Mrs.  Susan  Shelby  Grigsby,  who 
wanted  to  stay  at  his  home  to  be  near  her  wounded  husband 
of  the  Confederate  Sixth  Kentucky  Cavalry,  the  President  wired 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  289 

back  authority  for  allowing  her  to  remain  at  his  house  so  long 
as  he  chose  "to  be  responsible  for  what  she  may  do."50 

The  losses  of  the  battlefield  had  as  yet  scarcely  touched  the 
Bluegrass,  and  except  for  the  fact  that  business  houses  closed 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  to  give  the  citizens  an  oppor- 
tunity to  drill,  the  routine  of  the  city  went  on  very  much  as 
usual— a  trifle  gayer,  perhaps,  because  of  the  presence  of  so 
many  young  and  fascinating  Yankee  officers.  General  Orlando 
B.  Wilcox  had  established  headquarters  in  a  large  colonial 
mansion  just  across  the  street  from  where  Mary  Todd  had 
gone  to  school  to  Dr.  Ward,  and  blue  uniforms,  gold  epaulets, 
red  sashes,  and  clanking  sabers  lent  a  martial  embellishment 
to  parties,  balls,  and  the  brilliant  occasion  when  the  "elite  of 
Lexington  theater-goers  were  thrilled  by  the  first  appearance 
of  the  greatest  Tragedian  of  the  Age,  Mr.  John  Wilkes  Booth," 
who  appeared  at  the  Opera  House  as  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
in  Richard  HI  and  as  Charles  De  Moor  in  "Schiller's  tragic 
play,  The  Robbers."51 

The  gallant  blades  of  the  North,  however,  were  not  wel- 
come everywhere  in  Lexington,  and  in  many  homes  even  the 
window  shades  were  drawn  at  the  sight  of  them.  "Lexington 
is  a  Union  city,  if  you  confine  the  expression  of  sentiment  to 
the  sensible  citizens  thereof,"  reported  a  local  correspondent 
to  the  Cincinnati  Daily  Commercial,  "but  give  a  vote  to  every 
love-lorn  lass  of  sweet  sixteen,  whose  dearest  idol  is  seeking  his 
rights  amid  the  chaos  of  butternut  coats  and  you  will  find  a 
majority  the  wrong  way."  But  the  writer  complimented  "Lex- 
ington ladies  of  the  secession  persuasion"  on  their  demeanor 
toward  the  Union  soldiers,  saying  that  "they  do  not  turn  up 
their  noses  and  otherwise  insult  them  as  do  the  petticoated 
vulgarians  of  Nashville,  Memphis,  and  New  Orleans.  Soldiers 
pass  them  in  the  street  and  meet  them  in  the  stores  without 
receiving  the  least  cause  for  offence."  All  of  which  he  attrib- 
uted to  the  "superior  education  and  good  breeding  of  Ken- 
tucky women."52 


290  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

While  it  was  doubtless  true  that  Lexington  women  of  south- 
ern sympathies  usually  held  their  peace,  it  was  possible,  never- 
theless, to  provoke  some  of  them  into  bitter  retort,  and  Mary 
Lincoln's  stepmother,  at  least  on  occasion,  was  a  conspicuous 
example. 

On  Saturday  morning,  June  7,  1862,  Mrs.  Todd,  then  visit- 
ing her  daughter  Margaret  in  Cincinnati,  attended  an  exhibi- 
tion of  the  Horticultural  Society  with  several  of  Mrs.  Kellogg's 
friends.  In  the  course  of  conversation  someone  referred  to  the 
activities  of  General  John  Hunt  Morgan  near  Tompkinsville, 
Kentucky.  At  this  moment  "an  elderly  gentleman"  joined  the 
group,  and  assuming  that  all  present  were  Unionists,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  denounce  the  "notorious  Morgan"  and  dwelt  vigor- 
ously upon  the  public's  intense  "abhorrence  of  his  villainies." 
This  philippic  after  a  while  became  too  much  even  for  the 
quiet,  cultured,  dignified  Mrs.  Todd,  who  had  known  General 
Morgan  since  his  early  childhood  and  had  just  lost  her  oldest 
boy  Samuel  at  the  Battle  of  Shiloh. 

"I  wish  there  were  ten  thousand  like  John  Morgan,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Todd  "vehemently,"  to  the  utter  astonishment 
of  the  "elderly  gentleman,"  who  hastily  changed  the  subject 
and  made  his  exit  at  the  first  opportunity.53 

However,  the  Reverend  Mr.  Pratt  was  of  the  opinion  that 
Lexington  was  far  from  being  a  Union  city.  When  the  Elk- 
horn  Baptist  Association  held  a  "day  of  fasting  &  prayer,"  Pratt 
found  the  meetinghouse  full.    The  chairman 

called  upon  a  number  to  pray  but  every  brother  seemed  embarrassed 
&:  avoided  mention  of  the  restoration  of  the  Union,  etc.  Last  of  all 
he  called  upon  me  &  I  joyfully  accepted  the  opportunity.  ...  I 
prayed  the  Lord  to  bless  the  President,  the  members  of  his  Cabinet, 
Congress  &  our  Legislature,  Governor  &c.  &  also  the  restoration  of 
the  Union.  When  I  had  got  through,  I  found  that  quite  a  number 
of  Secessionists  had  either  left  the  house  or  were  leaving,  vowing 
they  would  never  hear  me  preach  or  pray  again.  ...  In  starting 
to  leave  for  home,  I  found  some  person  had  run  against  my  buggy 
&  broke  one  wheel.54 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  291 

The  death  of  Sam  Todd  had  not  only  brought  sorrow  and 
bitterness  to  his  mother,  but  it  had  also  inflicted  another  deep 
personal  wound  upon  the  First  Lady  in  the  White  House, 
seared  by  taunting  sarcasms  from  newspapers  of  the  South, 
widely  and  maliciously  circulated  by  the  Copperhead  press  of 
the  North. 

Among  the  many  names  of  those  who  fell  upon  the  bloody  field 
of  Shiloh,  while  gallantly  fighting  for  the  independence  of  the 
South  [said  the  Montgomery  Advertiser],  we  find  that  of  S.  B. 
Todd,  brother  of  the  wife  of  the  Yankee  President.  If  either  Lin- 
coln or  his  wife  had  shown  themselves  to  be  possessed  of  the  ordi- 
nary sensibilities  of  human  nature,  we  should  not  envy  their  feelings 
when  they  learn  of  the  death  of  their  brother  at  the  hands  of  the 
Northern  mercenaries.  We  are  aware  that  Lincoln  is  profuse  in 
his  tears  when  he  deems  proper  to  indulge  in  such  luxuries  .  .  . 
but  we  do  not  believe  he  will  have  one  tear  of  regret  to  shed  when 
the  intelligence  of  the  death  of  the  brave  Todd  reaches  him. 

Mrs.  Lincoln  is  of  such  a  sympathizing  nature  that  she  felt  com- 
pelled to  put  on  mourning  out  of  respect  to  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land .  .  .  but  we  cannot  expect  that  she  will  receive  the  news  of 
the  death  of  her  brother  with  any  other  feelings  than  that  of  in- 
difference. That  brother  has  given  his  life  to  beat  back  the  des- 
potism which  his  own  brother-in-law  seeks  to  establish  in  the  South, 
and  his  blood  will  cry  from  the  earth  for  vengeance,  until  Lincoln, 
like  his  renowned  example,  Cain,  shall  utter  in  tones  of  bitter  an- 
guish, "My  punishment  is  greater  than  I  can  bear."55 

Lincoln  still  kept  in  touch  with  his  wife's  home  town.  Early 
in  August  he  received  an  elegant  silver  snuffbox  with  the  fol- 
lowing letter: 

Ashland  near  Lexington 
4th  August  1862 

To  His  Excellency  Abraham  Lincoln 

President  of  the  United  States 

Dear  Sir: 

I  send  you  through  Adams  Express  a  snuff  box,  not  of  much 

intrinsic  value,  but  which  belonged  to  my  late  father,  whose  avowed 


292  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

sentiment  "that  he  owed  a  higher  allegiance  to  the  Constitution 
and  Government  of  the  United  States  than  to  the  Constitution  and 
Government  of  any  State"  is  mine,  and  whose  other  noblest  senti- 
ment "that  he  would  rather  be  right  than  be  President"  I  hope 
may  ever  be  yours. 

My  mother  now  passed  81  years  of  age,  consents  for  me  to  send 
you  the  snuff  box.   With  Great  Respect 

Your  friend  &  Obt.  Servt. 
John  M.  Clay56 

This  gift  was  promptly  acknowledged: 

Executive  Mansion, 
Washington,  August  9,   1862. 
Mr.  John  M.  Clay. 
My  dear  Sir: 

The  snuff-box  you  sent,  with  the  accompanying  note,  was  re- 
ceived yesterday.  Thanks  for  this  memento  of  your  great  and  pa- 
triotic father.  Thanks  also  for  the  assurance  that,  in  these  days  of 
dereliction,  you  remain  true  to  his  principles.  In  the  concurrent 
sentiment  of  your  venerable  mother,  so  long  the  partner  of  his 
bosom  and  his  honors,  and  lingering  now,  where  he  was,  but  for 
the  call  to  rejoin  him  where  he  is,  I  recognize  his  voice,  speaking 
as  it  ever  spoke,  for  the  Union,  the  Constitution,  and  the  freedom 
of  mankind. 

Your  Obt.  Servt. 
A.  Lincoln57 

Margaret  Wickliffe  Preston,  Mrs.  Lincoln's  girlhood  friend 
and  schoolmate,  telegraphed  the  White  House  asking  for  a 
pass  through  the  Union  lines  to  go  south  to  see  her  husband, 
General  William  C.  Preston  of  the  Confederate  Army.  And 
the  President  wired  reply: 

Washington  D.  C, 
Aug.  21,  1862. 
Mrs.  Margaret  Preston 
Lexington,  Ky. 

Your  despatch  to  Mrs.  L.  received  yesterday.  She  is  not  well. 
Owing  to  her  early  and  strong  friendship  for  you,  I  would  gladly 
oblige  you,  but  I  can  not  absolutely  do  it.   If  Gen.  Boyle  and  Hon. 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  293 

James  Guthrie,  one  or  both,  in  their  discretion,  see  fit  to  give  you 
the  passes,  this  is  my  authority  to  them  for  doing  so. 

A.  Lincoln58 

Next  day  Mrs.  Lincoln  sent  this  telegram:  "General  Boyle, 
Louisville,  Ky.  I  presume  you  have  received  a  despatch  from 
Mrs.  Preston.  If  you  consistently  can,  will  you  not  grant  her 
request?"59 

Early  in  August,  Cassius  M.  Clay,  whom  Lincoln  had  ap- 
pointed minister  to  Russia,  returned  to  Washington  and  ac- 
cepted a  commission  from  the  President  as  major  general  of 
volunteers.  Steady  reverses  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  as 
Lee  with  bloody  thrusts  pushed  McClellan  back  upon  Wash- 
ington, had  shrouded  the  Capital  in  darkest  gloom.  With  re- 
sistance to  the  draft,  dissension  in  Congress,  widespread  criti- 
cism of  the  administration,  and  the  utter  inability  of  Union 
generals  to  achieve  a  single  decisive  victory,  the  Union  cause 
seemed  hopeless. 

In  an  interview  with  Lincoln,  Clay  urged  the  President  to 
proclaim  the  freedom  of  all  slaves  in  the  seceded  states.  During 
his  sojourn  on  the  Continent  he  had  devoted  much  time  to 
the  study  of  European  politics.  It  was  evident  that  the  rulers 
of  France,  Russia,  and  England  were  in  sympathy  with  any 
movement  that  would  destroy  the  Republic  and  anxious  for 
an  opportunity  to  intervene  in  behalf  of  the  Confederacy.  But 
if  the  federal  government  freed  the  slaves,  Clay  told  the  Presi- 
dent, autocracy  would  never  dare  actively  to  espouse  the  cause 
of  the  South. 

Lincoln  listened  closely  to  the  emphatic  opinions  of  the 
impetuous  Kentuckian,  but  said  little.  Clay,  however,  was 
deeply  aroused  on  the  subject,  and  on  the  evening  of  August 
13,  1862,  he  delivered  at  the  Odd  Fellows'  Hall  in  Washington 
a  fiery  speech  "which  excited  the  widest  comment."  In  this 
address  he  vigorously  declared  his  belief  that  freedom  for  the 
slaves  was  the  only  way  to  avoid  foreign  intervention.  "Fight 
this  war  on  the  principle  of  common  sense!"   he  exclaimed. 


294  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

"As  for  myself,  never,  so  help  me  God,  will  I  draw  a  sword  to 
keep  the  chains  upon  another  fellow-being."60 

Next  morning  the  Union  press  severely  criticized  General 
Clay  for  his  "intemperate  utterances."  "He  has  outstripped 
himself.  He  is  ahead  of  Lovejoy.  He  is  neck  and  neck  with 
Garrison  and  Phillips,"  raved  the  New  York  Evening  Post. 

But  the  President  sent  for  Clay.  "I  have  been  thinking  of 
what  you  said  to  me,"  said  Lincoln,  "but  I  fear  if  such  procla- 
mation of  emancipation  was  made  Kentucky  would  go  against 
us;  and  we  have  now  as  much  as  we  can  carry." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  replied  Clay,  "the  Kentuckians  have 
heard  this  question  discussed  by  me  for  a  quarter  of  a  century; 
and  have  all  made  up  their  minds.  Those  who  intend  to  stand 
by  slavery  have  already  joined  the  Rebel  army;  and  those  who 
remain  will  stand  by  the  Union  at  all  events.  Not  a  man  of 
intelligence  will  change  his  ground." 

Lincoln  pondered  the  situation  for  a  few  moments.  "The 
Kentucky  Legislature  is  now  in  session,"  he  said  at  last.  "Go 
down  and  see  how  they  stand  and  report  to  me."61 

A  week  later,  when  Clay  arrived  in  Lexington,  he  found 
the  city  in  the  wildest  disorder  and  confusion.  The  long- 
planned  Confederate  advance  to  rescue  Kentucky  from  the 
"Lincoln  tyranny"  was  well  under  way.  Bragg's  gray-clad  vet- 
erans were  pouring  through  Cumberland  Gap,  and  the  infantry 
of  General  Kirby  Smith,  flanked  by  John  Morgan's  hard-riding 
cavalry,  was  already  in  sight  of  the  Bluegrass.  Mayor  Worley 
had  proclaimed  the  "near  approach  of  an  invading  foe,"  and 
orderlies  galloped  up  and  down  the  streets  mobilizing  the 
Home  Guards.  With  characteristic  vigor  Clay  rushed  to  the 
aid  of  General  Lew  Wallace,  who  was  gathering  every  available 
soldier  to  resist  the  approaching  enemy,  but  his  mission  for 
Lincoln  compelled  him  to  leave  on  the  morning  of  August  27 
for  Frankfort,  where  he  was  scheduled  to  address  the  legislature. 

On  August  30,  while  Stonewall  Jackson  was  crushing  Pope 
at  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run,  General  Kirby  Smith's  ad- 
vance guard  defeated  the  Union  forces  twenty  miles  east  of 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  295 

Lexington,  and  all  hope  of  saving  the  capital  of  the  Bluegrass 
was  abandoned.  Bank  vaults  were  hurriedly  emptied.  Post- 
master Todd  hustled  off  the  accumulated  mail.  Government 
stores  were  piled  up  and  set  on  fire,  and  then  with  screeching 
locomotives  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs  the  Union  troops  evacuat- 
ed the  city. 

Three  days  later  Kirby  Smith's  ragged  soldiers— hungry, 
worn  out,  almost  shoeless,  but  undaunted— marched  into  Lex- 
ington with  bands  playing  and  colors  flying.  And  on  Thursday 
morning  through  streets  lined  with  excited,  eager  friends  wav- 
ing handkerchiefs  and  small  Confederate  flags  Morgan  and 
his  men  came  back  home.  The  debonair  cavalry  leader,  in 
the  full  uniform  of  a  Confederate  colonel,  a  happy  smile  upon 
his  mobile,  sunburned  features,  rode  at  the  head  of  the  dusty 
column.  Swinging  into  Main  Street,  the  daredevil  troopers 
were  soon  dismounted  on  Cheapside,  where  mothers,  wives, 
and  sweethearts  welcomed  them  with  tears  of  joy  and  a  warm 
embrace.62 

Lexington  was  occupied  by  General  Smith's  army  for  six 
weeks,  while  her  loyal  citizens  sent  frantic  messages  to  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  and  Stanton,  the  secretary  of  war.  "The  loss  of 
Lexington  is  the  loss  of  the  very  heart  of  Kentucky,  and  leaves 
the  road  open  to  the  Ohio  river,"  wired  C.  P.  Morton,63  and 
next  day  Thomas  H.  Clay  advised  the  President:  "The  Panic 
still  prevails.  Lexington  and  Frankfort  in  the  hands  of  the 
Rebels.  Unless  the  state  is  reenforced  with  veteran  troops, 
Kentucky  will  be  overrun."64 

From  the  very  beginning,  Lexingtonians  had  accepted  Con- 
federate money  with  much  reluctance— many  had  refused  it 
altogether.  Several  weeks  later  General  Bragg  found  it  neces- 
sary to  issue  an  order  which  expressed  his  disappointment  that 
"Currency  of  the  Confederate  states"  had  been  "refused  by 
some,  and  by  others  exhorbitant  rates  have  been  demanded. 
All  efforts  to  discredit  it  must  cease.  ...  It  is  ordered  that  the 
currency  of  the  Confederate  states  be  taken  at  its  par  value  in 
all  transactions  whatever,   public  or  private.    The  refusal   to 


296  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

take  it,  or  the  exaction  of  exhorbitant  rates  will  be  treated  as 
a  military  offense  and  punished  accordingly."05 

On  September  13  the  Kentucky  Statesman,  burning  with 
revenge  for  its  suppression  a  year  before,  resumed  publication 
with  a  malignant  article  which  it  said  came  from  the  pen  of 
"a  brilliant  Southern  journalist." 

Abraham  Lincoln  is  a  man  above  the  medium  height.  He  passes 
the  six  foot  mark  by  an  inch  or  two.  He  is  raw-boned,  shamble- 
gaited,  bow-legged,  knock-kneed,  pigeon-toed,  slob-sided,  a  shapeless 
skeleton  in  a  very  tough,  very  dirty,  unwholesome  skin.  His  hair 
is  or  rather  was  black  and  shaggy;  his  eyes  dark  and  fireless  like  a 
cold  grate  in  winter  time.  His  lips  protrude  beyond  the  natural 
level  of  the  face,  but  are  pale  and  smeared  with  tobacco  juice.  His 
teeth  are  filthy. 

In  our  juvenile  days  we  were  struck  with  Virgil's  description 
of  the  ferryman  who  rode  with  the  disembodied  souls  of  men  over 
the  river  of  death.  Lincoln,  if  our  memory  fails  us  not,  must  be  a 
near  kinsman  of  that  official  of  the  other  world.  At  all  events  they 
look  alike  and  if  a  relationship  be  claimed  when  Abraham  reaches 
the  ferry  he  will  be  able,  we  doubt  not,  to  go  over  free  of  toll. 

In  the  next  place  his  voice  is  untutored,  coarse,  harsh— the  voice 
of  one  who  has  no  intellect  and  less  moral  nature.  His  manners 
are  low  in  the  extreme  and  when  his  talk  is  not  obscene  it  is  sense- 
less. In  a  word  Lincoln  born  and  bred  a  railsplitter,  is  a  railsplitter 
still.  Bottom,  the  weaver,  was  not  more  out  of  place  in  the  lap  of 
Titania  than  he  on  the  throne  of  the  ex-republic.  And  this  is  the 
man  who,  incapable  of  stronger  or  higher  inspiration  than  that  of 
revenge,  aspires  to  be  master  of  the  South,  as  he  is  of  the  enslaved 
and  slavish  North.  This  is  the  man  who  bids  armies  rise  and  fight 
and  commands  and  dismisses  generals  at  will.  This  is  the  man  who 
proclaims  (as  such  could  only  do)  the  equality  of  the  races,  black 
with  white.  This  is  the  man  who  incites  servile  insurrection,  or- 
dains plunder  and  encourages  rapine.  This  is  the  man  who  trembles 
not  at  the  horrible  butchery  which  Heaven  will  call  him  to  answer 
for,  yet  quakes  like  an  aspen  at  the  approach  of  peril  to  his  own 
poor  carcass.  This  is  the  man  in  fine  who  has  been  selected  by  the 
powers  to  do  such  dark  deeds  as  the  Dark  Ages  only  know,  deeds 
which  civilization  blushes  to  record  and  men  in  other  lands  refuse 
to  credit.    Kneel  down  and  kiss  his  royal  feet,  men  of  the  South! 


STIRRING  DAYS  IN  KENTUCKY  297 

However,  this  incredibly  false  and  venemous  appraisal  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  by  a  so-called  "brilliant,"  though  anonymous, 
"Southern  Journalist"  was  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  observa- 
tions of  a  distinguished  philosopher  and  man  of  letters  whose 
name  was  revered  in  many  American  households. 

In  February,  1862,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  visited  Wash- 
ington for  the  purpose  of  delivering  a  lecture  at  the  Smith- 
sonian Institution.  While  there,  he  called  at  the  White  House 
and  then  wrote  in  his  journal: 

The  President  impressed  me  more  favorably  than  I  had  hoped. 
A  frank,  sincere,  well  meaning  man,  with  a  lawyer's  habit  of  mind, 
good,  clear  statement  of  his  facts;  correct  enough,  not  vulgar,  as 
described,  but  with  a  sort  of  boyish  cheerfulness,  or  that  kind  of 
jolly  good  meaning,  that  our  class  meetings  of  Commencement  Days 
show,  in  telling  our  old  stories  over.  When  he  has  made  his  re- 
mark he  looks  up  at  you  with  great  satisfaction  and  shows  all  his 
white  teeth  and  laughs.  When  I  was  introduced  to  him  he  said 
"Oh,  Mr.  Emerson,  I  once  heard  you  say  in  a  lecture  that  a  Ken- 
tuckian  seems  to  say  by  his  air  and  manners,  'Here  am  I,  if  you 
don't  like  me,  the  worse  for  you.'  "  The  point  of  this,  of  course,  is 
that  Lincoln  himself  is  a  Kentuckian.66 

The  Confederate  invasion,  however,  was  short-lived.  By 
the  middle  of  October,  following  the  bloody  battle  of  Perry- 
ville,  Bragg  withdrew  from  Kentucky,  and  on  the  sixteenth 
of  the  month  the  Fourth  Ohio  Cavalry  rode  into  Lexington. 
In  a  few  more  days  thousands  of  Union  troops  were  encamped 
in  the  courthouse  yard,  at  the  racetrack,  and  on  the  fair 
grounds.67 

Dr.  Breckinridge  had  been  deeply  chagrined  by  the  enemy's 
brief  occupation  of  his  beloved  city.  But  now  that  butternut 
jeans  and  Confederate  flags  had  disappeared,  he  gradually  re- 
covered his  equanimity. 

At  least,  I  have  the  double  satisfaction  of  some  little  share  in 
the  defeat  of  a  wicked  and  dangerous  attack  on  us;  and  then  of 
some  kind  offices  to  its  helpless  and  deluded  victims.  It  seems  to  me 
that  people  who  become  traitors,  lose  in  great  degree  their  con- 
science and  their  sense.   Nearly  all  these  people  who  made  this  raid 


298  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

were  natives  of  this  state— large  numbers  of  them  of  this  particular 
portion  of  it,  and  what  they  incur  the  frightful  risk  of  making  it 
for,  except  mere  mischief,  is  inconceivable  supposing  them  to  have 
any  sense.  The  general  effect  has  been  to  rouse  the  Union  people 
of  the  whole  state  to  much  greater  activity  and  decision— and  to 
weaken,  in  many  ways,  the  disloyal  party  in  the  state.68 


SEVENTEEN 


Problems  of  State  and 
In-Law  Trouble 


On  SEPTEMBER  22,  1862,  President  Lincoln  had  issued 
his  preliminary  Emancipation  Proclamation,  and  in  a  few  weeks 
runaway  slaves  began  to  flock  in  large  numbers  to  the  Union 
camps  about  Lexington.  Several  regiments  refused  to  give 
them  shelter,  but  others,  particularly  the  Twenty-Second  Wis- 
consin Volunteers,  commanded  by  Colonel  William  L.  Utley, 
a  Wisconsin  farmer  in  civil  life,  took  them  in.  One  of  the 
refugees  was  a  young  mulatto  girl  "about  18  years  old  of  fine 
appearance."  She  had  been  sold  by  her  master  for  $1,700  to 
a  man  who  had  arranged  to  put  her  in  a  house  of  ill  fame  in 
Lexington.  When  her  master  came  to  the  camp  in  search  of 
his  property,  the  soldiers  hid  her,  and  she  was  given  trans- 
portation in  a  sutler's  wagon  to  Cincinnati.1 

One  day  in  November,  Lincoln's  old  friend,  Judge  George 
Robertson,  drove  up  to  Colonel  Utley's  headquarters  in  his 
elegant  carriage.  Introducing  himself  to  the  colonel,  the  Judge 
informed  him  that  he  was  the  last  surviving  member  of  the 
Congress  that  had  passed  the  Missouri  Compromise,  that  he 
was  a  friend  of  Lincoln's,  and  that  he  had  written  an  essay 


300  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

against  slavery  and  in  favor  of  emancipation  that  was  then 
"being  eagerly  sought  after  by  the  President."  He  further  in- 
formed Colonel  Utley  that  he  was  in  search  of  a  black  boy 
that  had  run  away  from  him,  and  that  he  understood  the  little 
Negro  was  being  harbored  by  his  soldiers. 

"I  do  not  permit  nigger-hunters  to  ransack  my  regiment," 
said  the  colonel  bluntly.  "If  you  will  drive  back  into  town, 
and  return  at  three  o'clock,  I  will  look  through  the  regiment, 
and  if  I  find  such  a  boy  and  he  is  willing  to  go  with  you,  I 
pledge  you  my  honor  that  you  shall  have  him." 

At  the  appointed  time  Judge  Robertson  returned.  "Have 
you  found  the  boy?"  he  inquired. 

"I  have  found  a  little  yellow  boy  who  says  he  belongs  to  a 
man  in  Lexington  who  hired  him  out  to  a  brutal  Irishman  for 
fifty  dollars  a  year,"  replied  Colonel  Utley.  "The  Irishman, 
never  having  seen  him,  was  dissatisfied,  he  being  so  much  small- 
er than  he  had  anticipated  for  a  boy  of  nineteen,  and  as  his 
master  would  not  take  him  back,  he  declared  that  he  would 
lick  it  out  of  him.  He  says  that  the  man  beat  him  for  anything 
and  for  nothing— that  he  had  been  to  his  master  many  times 
and  told  him  he  could  not  stand  it,  and  that  his  master  replied: 
'Go  back,  you  dog.' 

"He  also  says  that  he  showed  his  master  his  neck,  with  the 
skin  torn  off,  where  the  Irishman  had  tied  a  rope  around  it,  and 
dragged  him  about;  that  he  had  been  hired  out  since  he  was 
five  years  old,  his  master  taking  all  his  wages  and  now  he  gave 
him  no  protection.  He  says  that  he  has  been  beaten,  worked 
and  starved  until  he  could  endure  it  no  longer  and  ran  away. 
He  lived  on  black  walnuts  till  the  snow  came,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  seek  shelter  somewhere.  He  sought  protection  from 
several  regiments,  but  could  gain  no  admission  until  he  came 
here.  Now,  sir,"  said  Utley,  gazing  intently  at  the  Judge  from 
under  his  battered  campaign  hat,  "is  that  your  boy?" 

"He  is  my  nigger,"  replied  Robertson,  "but  niggers  lie." 

The  little  slave  was  then  brought  into  his  master's  presence, 
where  he  repeated  his  story  and  clung  steadfastly  to  it  under 
the  Judge's  furious  cross-examination.    An  orderly  then  led 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW  TROUBLE  301 

him  out  of  the  tent,  and  Colonel  Utley  said  to  the  Judge  that 
he  had  better  go  home  without  the  boy,  intimating  that  some 
of  his  men  might  handle  him  roughly  if  the  purpose  of  his 
visit  became  known  to  the  regiment. 

Shaking  with  anger,  Robertson  continued  to  argue  the  case 
and  denounced  the  Twenty-Second  Wisconsin  as  a  "gang  of 
nigger-stealers." 

"You  talk  about  nigger-stealing,"  replied  Utley,  "you  who 
riot  in  idleness,  and  who  live  on  the  sweat  and  blood  of  such 
little  creatures  as  that!" 

"If  that  is  the  way  you  talk  and  feel  the  Union  can  never 
be  saved.  You  must  give  up  our  property,"  retorted  the  Judge, 
brandishing  his  cane. 

"Union  men!"  exclaimed  the  colonel.  "I  have  not  seen 
half  a  dozen  that  did  not  damn  the  President.  You  may  put 
all  the  pure  Unionism  in  Kentucky  into  one  scale  and  a  ten 
pound  nigger  baby  in  the  other  and  the  Unionism  will  kick 
the  beam." 

"Are  you  willing  that  I  should  go  and  get  my  boy?"  per- 
sisted Robertson. 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "you  may  go  and  I  will  remain 
here." 

"Do  you  think  I  shall  be  permitted  to  take  him?" 

"I  think  not,  but  I  can  not  tell." 

The  Judge  stamped  out  of  the  tent,  followed  by  the  officer, 
and  got  in  his  carriage. 

"Will  you  send  him  into  some  other  regiment?"  inquired 
the  old  gentleman,  poking  his  head  out  of  the  vehicle. 

"No,  sir,"  shouted  Utley,  "I  would  see  you  in  hell  first."2 

Rushing  back  to  town,  Judge  Robertson  sent  the  President 
an  urgent,  indignant  message,  to  which  on  the  impulse  of  the 
moment  Lincoln  replied: 

Private  Executive  Mansion, 

Washington,  Nov.  20.  1862. 
Hon.  Geo.  Robertson 
My  dear  Sir. 

Your  despatch  of  yesterday  is  just  received.    I  believe  you  are 


302  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

acquainted  with  the  American  Classics  (if  there  be  such)  and 
probably  remember  a  speech  of  Patrick  Henry,  in  which  he  repre- 
sents a  certain  character  in  the,  revolutionary  times,  as  totally  dis- 
regarding all  questions  of  country,  and  "hoarsely  bawling,  beef! 
beef!!  beef!!!" 

Do  you  not  know  that  I  may  as  well  surrender  this  contest,  di- 
rectly, as  to  make  any  order,  the  obvious  purpose  of  which  would 
be  to  return  fugitive  slaves? 

Yours  very  truly 
A.  Lincoln8 

But  the  President  on  further  consideration  was  evidently 
afraid  that  this  letter  might  offend  the  Judge,  and  so  he  put 
it  away  in  the  executive  files  and  sent  another  instead: 

Private  Executive  Mansion, 

Washington,  Nov.  26,  1862. 
Hon.  Geo.  Robertson, 
My  dear  Sir: 

A  few  days  since  I  had  a  despatch  from  you  which  I  did  not 
answer.  If  I  were  to  be  wounded  personally,  I  think  I  would  not 
shun  it.  But  it  is  the  life  of  the  nation.  I  now  understand  the 
trouble  is  with  Col.  Utley;  that  he  has  five  slaves  in  his  camp,  four 
of  whom  belong  to  rebels,  and  one  belonging  to  you.  If  this  be 
true,  convey  yours  to  Col.  Utley,  so  that  he  can  make  him  free,  and 
I  will  pay  you  any  sum  not  exceeding  five  hundred  dollars. 

Yours,  Sec. 

A.  Lincoln4 

The  President's  generous  offer  was  promptly  refused  by 
Judge  Robertson.  Colonel  Utley  must  deliver  his  slave  or 
compensate  him  to  the  full  extent  of  his  value.  Knowing  that 
the  colonel  would  do  neither,  the  irate  Judge  sued  him  in  the 
United  States  District  Court  and  recovered  a  judgment  for 
$908.06  plus  costs  of  $26.40,  which  Congress  paid  by  a  special 
appropriation  after  the  war.5 

Meanwhile,  Judge  Robertson  had  also  appeared  before  the 
grand  jury  and  told  his  story,  and  that  body  had  promptly 
returned  an  indictment  against  Utley  for  harboring  a  slave 
and  aiding  in  his  escape,  all  of  which  was  a  felony  in  Kentucky. 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW  TROUBLE  303 

When  the  warrant  was  delivered  to  the  sheriff  to  be  served 
on  the  colonel,  Utley  wrote  a  hurried  letter  to  the  President, 
explaining  the  situation  and  inquiring  whether  "soldiers  from 
free  states  in  the  service  of  the  General  Government  are  to 
be  subject  to  the  civil  authorities  and  the  slave  code  of  slave 
holding  states.  To  you,"  said  Utley,  ''I  now  appeal  for  that 
protection  which  can  come  from  no  other  human  hands  for 
simply  standing  by  the  Constitution,  obeying  the  laws  of  Con- 
gress and  honoring  the  Proclamation  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States  issued  on  the  23d  day  of  September  last."6 

At  the  same  time  the  colonel  also  sent  a  lengthy  communi- 
cation to  his  friend,  Alexander  W.  Randall,  Lincoln's  recently 
returned  minister  to  Rome,  part  of  which  read  as  follows: 

I  am  in  a  devil  of  a  scrape,  and  appeal  to  you  for  assistence  .  .  . 
they  have  got  me  indicted  at  Lexington  under  the  Laws  of  Ken- 
tucky. The  Warrent  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Sherriff  of  this  County 
...  he  finds  the  same  dificulty  that  the  rats  did  in  getting  the  bell 
on  the  cat,  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  have  done,  but  a  bad  thing 
to  do.  They  find  it  so  in  arresting  me,  they  can  never  do  it  while 
there  is  a  man  left  in  the  22d  Regiment.  The  Brig.  Genl.  in  whose 
Brigade  we  now  are,  Refuses  to  assist  in  arresting  me.  Now  what 
I  want,  is  to  have  you  use  your  influence  with  the  President  to 
have  him  retained  in  command  of  this  Brigade,  for  he  certainly 
will  be  removed,  from  this  command  unless  measures  are  taken  to 
prevent,  or  we  shall  again  be  placed  under  some  pro  Slavery  red 
tape  Jcass  as  we  have  been  ever  since  we  came  in  to  the  state  until 
we  were  placed  under  him.  You  know  how  we  was  hurried  off 
without  Blankets,  tents  or  anything  to  make  us  comfortable.  Ken- 
tucky was  howling  like  a  set  of  d d  Hyenas  (as  they  are)  for  help. 

The  men  left  their  grain  standing  in  the  feild,  we  all  throwed 
down  our  impliments  and  started.  .  .  .  We  have  had  to  submit  to 
most  degrading  Orders.  .  .  .  We  have  laid  in  the  dirt  five  nights 
on  an  old  Rebel  ex  Congressmans  farm  (with  a  large  straw  stack 
roting  down  within  40  Rods  of  us)  under  order  from  Genl.  Gil- 
more  threatning  me  with  severe  punishment  if  I  allowed  the  men 
to  touch  it.  .  .  .  There  is  no  such  thing  as  Loyalty  or  unionism 
in  Kentuckey,  it  is  all  a  humbug.  I  wish  Abraham  Lincoln  could 
hear  what  the  professed  union  men  call  him.   I  told  the  Governor 


304  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

(Robinson)   that  all  Kentuckeyans  were  either  d d  Trators  or 

cowards,  that  thare  was  no  Loyalty  in  the  state.  ...  I  have  given 
them  hell,  and  now  they  intend  to  give  me  h— l.7 

Robertson's  complaint  to  Lincoln  was  the  first  inkling  of 
a  situation  in  Kentucky  that  gave  him  many  anxious  hours 
in  the  months  to  come.  The  proposed  Emancipation  Procla- 
mation touched  the  Unionist  of  the  Bluegrass  in  his  most 
tender  spot.  Forced  to  a  choice  between  loyalty  to  Lincoln 
and  their  innate  love  for  slave  property,  hundreds  of  Unionists 
deluged  the  White  House  with  vigorous  protest  against  either 
governmental  or  military  interference  with  the  "institution" 
in  Kentucky. 

"I  consider  secession  an  enormous  and  inexcusable  heresy," 
wrote  a  venerable  Lexington  clergyman,  veteran  of  the  Battle 
of  New  Orleans,  to  Lincoln.  "But,"  said  he,  "a  state  of  things 
exists  in  our  midst  which  is  alarming  to  those  who  love  its 
Constitution  and  laws.  I  allude  to  the  improper  interference 
of  some  of  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  United  States  army 
with  our  slave-property.  .  .  .  Our  people— loyal  to  the  Con- 
stitution and  the  Union— have  borne  this  outrage  until  for- 
bearance in  their  apprehension  has  ceased  to  be  a  virtue,  and 
I  very  much  fear  that,  unless  speedily  arrested,  a  bloody  col- 
lision between  citizens  and  the  soldiers  will  be  the  result."8 

Things  had  just  about  reached  the  breaking  point  when  a 
streak  of  rare  good  fortune  struck  the  Bluegrass.  The  Forty- 
Eighth  Pennsylvania  Regiment  of  Infantry  was  detached  from 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  for  provost  guard  duty  in  central 
Kentucky.  Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  last  day  of  March, 
1863,  these  troops  arrived  in  Lexington  by  train  from  Cov- 
ington and  pitched  temporary  camp  at  the  fair  grounds. 

The  Forty-Eighth  was  composed  of  Pennsylvania  boys  re- 
cruited from  Schuylkill  County's  mining  region,  and  though 
young  in  years,  they  were  veterans  of  some  of  the  bloodiest 
engagements  of  the  war— second  Bull  Run,  South  Mountain, 
Antietam,  and  Fredericksburg.9  Lieutenant  Colonel  Henry 
Pleasants,   descendant  of  a  fine  old  Virginia  Quaker  family, 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW  TROUBLE  305 

acted  as  provost  marshal  during  most  of  the  regiment's  long 
stay  in  Lexington,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  and  his  men 
had  won  not  only  the  affection  of  the  Unionists,  but  also  the 
respect  of  most  of  the  "Secesh"  element.  All  agreed  that  these 
quiet,  friendly,  well-disciplined,  battle-seasoned  young  Penn- 
sylvanians  were  vastly  superior  to  the  raw,  rambunctious  re- 
cruits from  Wisconsin  and  Indiana  who  had  so  greatly  annoyed 
and  occasionally  terrorized  the  populace  while  quartered  here. 

The  remarkable  harmony  and  accord  existing  between  these 
soldiers  and  the  people  of  the  Bluegrass  during  the  five  months 
of  their  service  is  reflected  in  letters  which  Private  Henry  Clay 
Heisler  wrote  to  his  sister. 

The  regiment  had  comfortable  barracks  in  an  old  hemp 
factory  out  North  Limestone  Street.  Lexington  in  three  weeks 
time,  he  wrote,  had  become 

the  same  to  me  as  home.  On  Sundays  we  go  to  church  and  sunday 
school  and  go  in  the  bible  class  with  girls  and  enjoy  ourselves,  the 
same  as  if  we  were  at  home.  ...  I  have  made  myself  acquainted 
with  a  couple  of  girls  and  go  to  see  them  very  often  and  hear  them 
play  the  piano  and  sing.  At  the  same  time  I  interest  the  old  folks 
with  some  of  our  war  stories  that  we  have  seen  and  gone  through. 
They  say  we  are  the  best  behaved  soldiers  they  ever  saw.  Nearly 
every  evening  there  are  a  lot  of  ladies  up  to  see  us  on  Dress  Parade. 
The  boys  all  look  very  well.  They  have  short,  dark  blue  jackets, 
light  blue  pants  and  white  gloves  on  and  their  shoes  well  polished 
and  everything  fixed  that  becomes  a  soldier.  You  don't  see  any 
of  our  boys  in  town  with  red  shoes  on  or  the  hair  down  in  their 
eyes  like  some  of  the  other  soldiers,  but  have  their  hair  trimmed, 
shoes  blacked  and  gloves  washed  before  they  go  down  in  the  city. 
The  city  is  a  very  fine  place.  It  is  about  as  large  as  Reading  and 
splendid  houses.  .  .  .  We  are  treated  better  than  we  could  expect 
among  strangers,  even  better  than  we  would  in  our  own  state.10 

On  July  9  young  Heisler  wrote  home: 

I  received  your  letter  on  the  6  inst.,  but  I  had  no  chance  of 
answering  before.  On  the  night  of  the  fifth  about  10  o'clock  we 
were  aroused  out  of  our  beds  to  prepare  for  an  attack.  Our  scouts 
brought  news  that  Gen.  Morgan  and  his  Guerillas  was  marching 


306  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

on  Lexington  so  we  had  to  get  sixty  rounds  of  cartridges  and  be 
ready  to  receive  him.  ...  He  happened  to  meet  some  of  our  cav- 
alry not  far  from  here  and  got  licked  and  was  forced  to  retreat.  .  .  . 
Gen.  Morgan's  adjutant  gen.  was  captured  by  our  cavalry  along 
with  three  privates.  His  adjutant  is  a  brother-in-law  to  him.  He 
is  now  in  prison  in  this  place.  Mrs.  Morgan  visited  him  yesterday 
in  his  cell.  She  had  expected  to  see  him  marching  at  the  head  of 
the  Rebel  column  through  town  but  he  didn't  happen  to  be  so 
lucky.  Mrs.  Morgan  had  been  saying  some  time  ago  that  the  Gen. 
would  be  here  and  have  possession  of  the  city  on  the  fourth  of  July, 
but  it  does  not  seem  as  if  he  did.  We  have  but  a  handful  of  men 
in  our  regiment,  but  we  have  enough  for  him  any  time  he  under- 
takes to  try  us. 

On  August  29  Heisler  and  his  small  detail  were  guarding 
Stoner's  bridge  in  Bourbon  County,  finding  it  an  easy  assign- 
ment. 

We  go  on  guard  every  three  nights  and  only  stand  three  hours 
each,  so  the  duty  is  not  hard.  .  .  .  The  farmers  are  very  kind  to 
us.  They  keep  us  in  milk  and  butter  without  charge  and  they  told 
us  any  time  we  want  a  sheep  or  hog  or  turkey  we  should  come  and 
ask  for  it  and  he  would  give  it  to  us.  Apples,  peaches,  pears  and 
watermelons  are  plenty.  We  can  get  them  any  time  we  ask  for  them 
without  pay  and  if  any  of  our  boys  are  at  their  house  near  meal 
times  they  can't  go  away  without  first  eating  dinner  with  them.  .  .  . 
They  are  nearly  all  Sesesch  about  here  but  they  treat  us  first  rate 
better  than  we  would  ever  get  from  a  Pennsylvanian. 

When  General  Orlando  Wilcox  was  placed  in  command 
of  the  Central  Military  District  of  Kentucky  and  moved  his 
headquarters  to  Lexington,  he  was  so  grateful  for  the  good 
feeling  existing  between  citizens  and  soldiers  that  he  gave  a 
"grand  hop"  to  the  "ladies  and  gentlemen  of  Lexington"  who 
had  shown  such  "hearty  good  will"  to  the  Union  troops.  The 
fine  old  mansion  still  standing  at  the  northeast  corner  of  Sec- 
ond and  Market  and  its  spacious  grounds  were  handsomely 
decorated  with  flags,  swords,  guns,  drums,  and  other  military 
accouterment.    A  famous  orchestra  was  brought  down  from 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW  TROUBLE  307 

Cincinnati,  and  an  excellent  caterer  from  that  city  served  the 
delicious  banquet. 

It  was  about  this  time,  however,  that  the  military  authori- 
ties of  central  Kentucky  found  it  necessary  to  invoke  Burnside's 
''General  Order  No.  38,"  which  had  received  considerable 
notice  through  the  banishment  south  of  the  prominent  Ohio 
politician,  Clement  C.  Vallandigham.  Much  valuable  infor- 
mation was  sifting  through  the  Bluegrass  from  north  to  south. 
Indeed,  Lexington  had  been  recently  discovered  to  be  an  im- 
portant station  of  the  Confederate  secret  mail  service,  and 
local  authorities  were  instructed  to  serve  notice  on  all  "sus- 
pects" to  "move  into  the  rebel  lines." 

One  afternoon  Captain  Oliver  C.  Bosbyshell  received  a 
peremptory  order  to  serve  one  of  these  notices,  which  amazed 
and  greatly  shocked  him.  He  was  directed  to  proceed  to  the 
home  of  Dr.  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  and  demand  the  removal 
of  his  daughter,  wife  of  the  Confederate  major,  Theodore 
Steele.  Captain  Bosbyshell  had  heard  many  of  the  old  Doc- 
tor's eloquent  speeches  in  support  of  the  Union  government 
and  had  intimate  knowledge  of  what  a  tower  of  strength  he 
was  to  the  Union  cause.  Yet  orders  were  orders,  no  matter 
how  difficult  to  understand  or  perform.  So,  with  a  heavy  heart 
he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  out  North  Limestone  in  the 
bright  sunshine  of  a  midsummer  day. 

Riding  three  or  four  miles  into  the  country,  the  captain 
came  to  "a  neat  porter's  lodge"  marking  the  entrance  into 
"Braedalbane,"  which  looked  to  him  like  one  of  the  "country 
seats  of  English  Lords."  A  roadway  wound  through  a  beautiful 
woodland  perhaps  half  a  mile  to  the  "great  mansion."  Here 
Bosbyshell  found  Dr.  Breckinridge  "bareheaded,"  with  his 
heavy  shock  of  white  hair  "pushed  about  as  though  plowed 
through  by  his  fingers,"  pacing  thoughtfully  up  and  down  the 
broad  piazza  in  front  of  the  house. 

In  as  few  words  as  possible  the  young  officer  regretfully 
presented  the  written  order,  which  the  stanch  old  patriot  read 
slowly.    Then,  as  he  realized  its  full  import,  the  lines  about 


308  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

his  mouth  hardened  and  his  countenance  grew  grave  and  stern. 
Raising  his  stooped  shoulders,  he  brought  his  tall  figure  to 
military  erectness.  "Captain,  this  order  shall  be  observed,"  he 
said  grimly.    And,  as  Bosbyshell  later  wrote,  "It  was."11 

Actually,  the  spy  situation  had  grown  so  acute  in  central 
Kentucky  that  all  citizens  of  Union  sympathies  found  it  neces- 
sary to  regard  every  stranger  as  a  "rebel"  until  his  identity  and 
loyalty  were  definitely  established. 

One  day  in  August,  Lieutenant  Colonel  Pleasants,  post 
commander,  Captain  D.  D.  M'Ginnis,  post  adjutant,  and  Cap- 
tain Bosbyshell  started  out  the  Tates  Creek  Pike  for  a  short 
ride  into  the  country.  It  was  a  lovely  afternoon,  and  the  three 
Pennsylvanians  jogged  along  enjoying  the  Bluegrass  scenery. 
Presently  they  met  an  old  man  galloping  furiously  toward 
Lexington.  Seeing  the  men  in  uniform,  he  reined  his  sweaty 
nag  and  inquired  if  they  could  direct  him  to  "the  military 
authorities  at  Lexington."  When  informed  that  he  was  then 
in  the  presence  of  these  officials,  he  seemed  somewhat  incredu- 
lous but  finally  concluded  to  state  his  case.  After  telling  them 
his  name  was  Featherstone  and  that  he  lived  near  the  pike  a 
few  miles  back,  he  said,  "Well,  gentlemen,  you  tell  me  you  are 
the  military  authorities  of  Lexington.  Whether  you  are  or  not, 
I  want  you  to  arrest  a  couple  of  men  who've  been  down  to  my 
house  for  dinner;  they're  a  ugly  looking  set  of  fellows  and  they 
talk  bad.  I  think  they're  rebels  in  disguise,  here  for  no  good. 
They  were  asking  me  all  about  the  people  around  here,  and 
they  seem  to  know  a  mighty  heap  about  the  rebels  living  about— 
more'n  a  Union  man  ought  to.  Well,  they  want  to  get  to  Mt. 
Sterling  and  asked  me  the  nearest  and  best  road.  I  told  them  to 
go  through  Lexington,  although  the  best  road  takes  off  this 
side.  When  they  left,  I  hurried  to  the  stable,  jumped  on  my 
old  horse  and  cut  across  the  field  to  head  'em  off.  They're  not 
far  back  on  the  road— you'll  meet  'em  pretty  soon.  I'll  get  in 
the  field  as  it  will  never  do  for  them  to  see  me  with  you." 

Instructing  Featherstone  to  hide  in  a  clump  of  bushes  near 
the  turnpike,  Pleasants  and  his  companions  spurred  their 
horses,  and  shortly  at  a  bend  in  the  road  they  saw  two  tough- 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW   TROUBLE  309 

looking  characters— a  long  lank  fellow  in  gray  and  a  stout  man 
wearing  a  black  suit  and  a  battered  stovepipe  hat— riding  slowly 
toward  them.  Then  as  they  came  closer,  the  provost  marshal 
to  his  great  astonishment  recognized  one  of  them  as  Captain 
Edwards,  chief  of  the  Ohio  Department  of  the  Federal  Secret 
Service,  and  his  assistant,  Lieutenant  Stone. 

After  a  hurried  consultation  it  was  agreed  that  for  the 
benefit  of  their  informant  and  in  order  to  preserve  the  secrecy 
of  the  true  identity  of  these  agents,  the  two  men  should  be 
marched  into  Lexington  as  though  under  arrest.  So  up  the 
pike  they  rode— Edwards  placed  securely  between  Lieutenant 
Colonel  Pleasants  and  Captain  M'Ginnis,  with  Stone  in  the 
rear  guarded  by  Captain  Bosbyshell— past  the  thicket  that  con- 
cealed the  gleefully  satisfied  Featherstone,  through  the  tollgate 
near  the  city  limits,  and  down  the  streets  of  the  town,  under 
the  gaze  of  curious  bystanders,  to  the  sanctuary  of  the  provost 
marshal's  office.12 

Early  autumn  brought  the  Forty-Eighth's  long  holiday  to  an 
end.  On  a  September  morning  the  regiment  marched  down 
Limestone  Street  to  Main,  thence  to  the  Kentucky  Central 
Railroad  station,  where  a  troop  train  waited  on  the  siding. 
The  frightful  carnage  of  the  Wilderness,  Spotsylvania,  and 
Cold  Harbor  lay  ahead  of  them.  Colonel  Pleasants  would  de- 
vise and  prepare  the  great  mine  that  exploded  a  year  later 
under  the  Confederate  works  at  Petersburg. 

After  being  there  so  long  it  was  very  hard  for  us  to  leave  Lex- 
ington [Private  Heisler  wrote  his  sister],  and  it  was  no  harder  for 
us  than  it  was  for  the  citizens.  They  were  to  us  as  brothers  and 
were  very  sorry  to  see  us  leave.  The  whole  town  was  out  on  the 
streets  to  see  us  leave  and  give  us  goodby.  A  great  many  of  the 
ladies  parted  with  us  with  tears  in  their  eyes.  When  we  were  get- 
ting ready  to  go  on  the  cars,  the  band  played  Old  Lang  Syne  and 
brought  tears  from  nearly  every  eye  that  was  present.  All  of  our 
boys  said  it  never  went  so  hard  with  them  when  they  left  home  as 
it  did  when  they  left  Lexington.13 

The  withdrawal  of  Union  troops  from  central  Kentucky 
greatly  increased  the  problems  of  the  President  in  his  native 


310  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

state.  Guerrilla  bands  sprang  up  again.  Confederate  raids  in- 
creased. Colonel  Clarence  Prentice  at  the  head  of  a  gang  of 
irregulars  who  called  themselves  Confederates  galloped  into 
eastern  Kentucky. 

Colonel  Prentice  was  the  erratic,  impulsive,  unreliable  son 
of  George  D.  Prentice,  founder  and  famed  editor  of  the  Louis- 
ville Journal,  the  first  newspaper  for  which  Lincoln  had  ever 
subscribed.  Though  the  Journal  strongly  opposed  "secession," 
its  editor  had  been  consistently  critical  of  Lincoln  and  his 
policies  since  the  day  he  had  denounced  the  President's  first 
call  for  troops  as  "unworthy  not  merely  of  a  statesman  but  of 
a  man." 

During  the  first  two  years  of  the  war  Editor  Prentice  had 
written  many  carping  letters  to  Lincoln,  but  now  he  hur- 
riedly penned  another  entirely  different  in  tone  and  contents. 
It  read  in  part:  "Mr.  Lincoln,  I  have  a  great  favor  to  ask  of 
you.  Hear  me!  My  only  child,  Clarence  J.  Prentice,  God  help 
him,  is  a  Major  in  the  Confederate  Service.  A  few  weeks  ago, 
he  came  into  Kentucky  and  being  cut  off  from  his  command, 
he  came  by  night  to  his  home  to  see  me  and  his  mother  and 
his  baby.  He  was  seen  coming  and  in  a  few  hours  arrested. 
He  is  now  at  Camp  Chase  and  his  mother  in  Columbus.  He 
desires  I  know  to  serve  no  longer  in  the  war."  Prentice  then 
assured  the  President  that  his  son  would  be  willing  to  sign  an 
oath  to  remain  outside  both  the  United  States  and  the  Con- 
federate States  for  the  remainder  of  the  war,  and  he  fervently 
urged  that  the  prisoner  be  paroled  upon  these  terms.  "His 
mother  will  go  with  him  and  he  will  never  bear  arms  against 
us  again,"  wrote  Prentice.  "I  will  be  surety  for  this  with  for- 
tune and  life.  I  have  written  to  Gen.  Burnside  to  let  my  son 
remain  at  Camp  Chase  until  I  hear  from  you.  Please  let  it 
be  soon  for  I  am  most  unhappy."14 

Lincoln  had  promptly  submitted  Prentice's  letter  to  his 
judge  advocate,  blunt  old  Kentuckian  Joseph  Holt,  who  em- 
phatically protested  young  Prentice's  release  upon  the  condi- 
tions proposed  by  his  father.    "Clarence  J.  Prentice  himself," 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW   TROUBLE  311 

said  Holt,  "has  made  no  communication  to  the  government 
expressive  of  his  feelings  in  regard  to  the  war  or  of  his  future 
plans  and  purposes.  .  .  .  He  left  his  home  in  a  state  then  still 
loyal  and  voluntarily  and  wantonly  banded  with  traitors." 
Holt  reminded  the  President  that  he  had  no  guarantee  what- 
ever "that  the  prisoner  thus  tenderly  dealt  with  would  not 
at  the  first  opportunity  re-enter  the  rebel  military  service."15 

Not  having  heard  from  Lincoln,  Editor  Prentice  wrote  him 
again: 

Journal  Office 
Louisville,  Ky. 
May  6,  1863 
To  The  President  Of  The  United  States 
Dear  Sir, 

I  wrote  to  you  last  week  in  regard  to  my  son,  Major  Clarence 
Prentice,  now  a  rebel  prisoner  at  Camp  Chase.  He  would  ere  this 
have  been  forwarded  for  exchange  but  Gen.  Burnside,  at  my  solici- 
tation, consented  to  have  him  detained  until  I  could  have  time  to 
hear  from  you.  I  think  there  has  been  time,  but  I  have  received 
nothing  from  you  either  by  mail  or  telegraph.  I  know  that  the 
pressure  of  the  affairs  of  state  upon  you  is  very  great.  Perhaps  you 
did  not  read  my  letter  at  all. 

Major  Prentice  is  the  only  child  left  to  me.  My  household  is 
very  desolate.  My  son  is  tired  of  the  war,  but  unfortunately  he 
thinks  the  south  right.  I  ask  you  to  direct  his  release  upon  his 
taking  the  non  combatants  oath  and  giving  bond  and  security  for 
its  scrupulous  observance.  If  you  cannot  do  this,  as  I  painfully  fear 
you  cannot,  I  earnestly  appeal  to  you  to  parole  him  to  stay  outside 
of  both  the  United  States  and  the  Southern  Confederacy  until  after 
the  rebellion. 

I  should  scarcely  venture,  Mr.  President,  to  make  this  appeal  to 
you  but  that  I  think  I  have  served  the  union  cause  faithfully,  de- 
votedly and  successfully.  I  have  suffered  very  much  and  sacrificed 
very  much  in  its  behalf— more,  I  am  sure,  than  any  other  man  in 
Kentucky;  and  I  am  likely,  even  at  the  best,  to  suffer  and  sacrifice 
much  hereafter.  I  think  there  is  not  a  candid  and  intelligent  union 
man  in  this  state  who  would  hesitate  to  say  to  you  that  I  have  saved 
it  to  the  union  politically. 


312  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

And  now,  dear  sir,  pray  grant  me  what  I  ask  in  behalf  of  my 
only  son.  His  mother  is  half  delirious,  and  so  am  I.  I  am  scarcely 
capable  of  performing  my  daily  duties  to  the  country,  but,  if  my 
request  were  granted,  I  feel  I  should  be  buoyant  with  new  life. 

Please  let  me  know  your  decision  soon,  for,  if  my  son  cannot 
be  paroled  upon  either  of  the  conditions  I  have  mentioned,  I  want 
him  sent  forward  as  soon  as  possible  to  City  Point,  as  he  is  extremely 
uncomfortable  in  his  present  situation. 

Is  it  too  much  to  ask  that  you  will  telegraph  me  upon  the  re- 
ceipt of  this? 

Geo.  D.  Prentice16 

Ten  days  later  the  President  issued  an  order,  written  on 
the  back  of  Prentice's  letter,  instructing  General  Burnside  to 
parole  young  Prentice  "to  remain  outside  the  limits  of  both 
the  loyal  and  disloyal  States,  or  so-called  'Confederate  States,' 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  during  the  present  rebellion, 
and  to  abstain  from  in  any  wise  aiding  or  abetting  said  re- 
bellion." However,  just  as  Judge  Holt  had  predicted,  Clarence 
Prentice  had  immediately  upon  his  release  from  Camp  Chase 
violated  his  oath  and  re-entered  the  Confederate  lines.  Only  a 
few  months  after  his  parole,  he  was  robbing  banks,  burning 
courthouses,  and  spreading  terror  and  destruction  generally 
along  the  Kentucky-Virginia  border,  while  his  father,  forgetful 
of  the  President's  response  to  his  tearful  appeals,  sharpened  his 
pencil  for  bitter  opposition  to  Lincoln's  re-election  the  follow- 
ing year. 

However,  the  President  had  little  time  to  reflect  upon  the 
duplicity  which  had  been  practiced  upon  him  in  the  Prentice 
matter  because  of  a  deep  personal  tragedy  which  again  fell 
upon  the  White  House.  On  the  morning  of  September  20  Ben 
Hardin  Helm,  the  husband  of  Emilie,  was  killed  while  leading 
his  brigade  in  a  furious  assault  against  Rosecrans  at  Chicka- 
mauga.  Judge  David  Davis  said  that  he  called  upon  Lincoln 
about  four  o'clock  on  September  22  and  found  him  grieving 
deeply   over    the   death    of   the    young    Confederate    general. 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW  TROUBLE  313 

"Davis,"  said  he,  "I  feel  as  David  of  old  did  when  he  was  told 
of  the  death  of  Absalom."17 

Emilie  and  her  three  small  children  were  at  Selma,  Ala- 
bama, when  her  husband  died,  and  she  was  able  to  reach 
Atlanta  in  time  for  the  funeral.  Nothing  now  was  left  to  keep 
her  in  the  South,  and  her  friends  set  about  finding  a  way  for 
an  early  return  to  her  mother's  home  at  Lexington.  Applica- 
tion for  a  pass  was  made  to  the  military  authorities,  but  after 
weeks  of  delay  it  was  refused.  Then,  not  knowing  that  Lincoln 
had  forwarded  one  to  Lexington  which  permitted  her  mother 
to  "go  south  and  bring  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Genl.  B.  Hardin 
Helm  with  her  children,  North  to  Kentucky,"  Mrs.  Helm 
started  home  without  credentials  but  was  promptly  detained 
at  Fortress  Monroe  by  officials  who  refused  to  permit  her  to 
continue  her  journey  unless  she  took  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  the  United  States.  This  the  little  widow  firmly  declined 
to  do,  and  finally  it  occurred  to  someone  to  telegraph  the 
President,  who  immediately  wired,  "Send  her  to  me."18 

Emilie,  a  pathetic  figure  in  her  widow's  weeds,  found  upon 
reaching  the  White  House  that  war  had  taken  its  toll  of  Mary 
and  "brother"  Lincoln  too.  He  was  thin  and  careworn— actu- 
ally looked  ill.  Mary  was  pale  and  tense  with  a  constant  look 
of  distress  in  her  deep  blue  eyes.  Both  of  them  received  Emilie 
with  warm  affection  and  did  everything  to  make  her  brief  visit 
as  pleasant  as  possible.  All  mention  of  the  war  was  strictly 
avoided.  Indeed  Emilie  remembered  gratefully  a  particular 
incident  which  showed  the  President's  fine  tact  and  ability  to 
direct  unpleasant  situations  into  harmless  channels. 

The  yellow  pine  and  scaly-bark  hickory  logs  burned  bright- 
ly on  the  wide  hearth  of  the  White  House  sitting  room.  Lin- 
coln, resting  briefly  from  the  burdens  of  state,  relaxed  in  his 
big  armchair,  casually  scanning  an  afternoon  newspaper.  On 
the  high-backed  settee  in  a  corner  near  the  mantlepiece  Mary 
talked  in  sober  undertones  with  Emilie. 

Merry,  tousle-headed,  mischievous  Tad  Lincoln,  ten  years 
old,  sat  upon  the  thick  rug  in  front  of  the  fire,  entertaining 


314  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

his  small  cousin,  Katherine  Helm,  aged  six,  with  a  batch  of 
photographs.  He  showed  her  pictures  of  himself,  the  Lincoln 
residence  at  Springfield,  and  several  views  of  the  Capitol.  Then 
he  picked  up  a  likeness  of  his  father.  "This  is  the  President," 
he  announced  proudly.  But  his  little  cousin  shook  her  long, 
auburn  curls  with  emphasis.  "No,"  she  said  firmly,  "that's  not 
the  President.    Mr.  Davis  is  President." 

Momentarily  taken  back  by  this  unexpected  assertion,  Tad 
recovered  quickly,  repeated  his  statement,  and,  to  put  the  mat- 
ter beyond  further  contradiction,  shouted  shrilly,  "Hurrah  for 
Abe  Lincoln!"  And  tiny  Katherine  replied  defiantly,  "Hurrah 
for  Jeff  Davis!" 

At  that  point  Lincoln,  who  had  watched  the  gathering 
storm  with  quiet  chuckles,  reached  down  and  scooped  the 
flushed  and  glaring  belligerents  into  his  long,  sinewy  arms. 
For  a  moment  he  held  them  to  him  in  close  embrace  before 
placing  one  on  each  knee.  "Well,  Tad,  you  know  who  is  your 
President,  and  anyway,  I  am  your  little  cousin's  Uncle  Lin- 
coln," he  said  with  a  smile  and  a  twinkle  in  his  deep-set  eyes 
that  restored  complete  harmony.19 

Emilie  spent  almost  a  week  at  the  White  House,  and  then 
Lincoln  sent  her  back  to  Lexington  to  her  mother  with  a  pass 
which  read:  "Executive  Mansion,  Washington,  December  14, 
1863.  Whom  it  may  concern  It  is  my  wish  that  Mrs.  Emily 
T.  Helm  (widow  of  the  late  Gen.  B.  H.  Helm,  who  fell  in  the 
Confederate  service)  now  returning  to  Kentucky,  may  have 
protection  of  person  and  property,  except  as  to  slaves,  of  which 
I  say  nothing.    A.  Lincoln."20 

A  few  days  after  Emilie  left  the  White  House  the  President 
had  more  "in-law"  trouble.  Her  sister,  Martha  Todd  White, 
wife  of  Major  Clement  C.  White  of  Selma,  Alabama,  arrived 
in  Washington.  Martha  was  an  attractive,  vivacious,  intelligent 
young  woman,  more  like  Mary  Lincoln  in  appearance  and  per- 
sonality than  any  of  her  sisters  or  half  sisters.  In  the  early 
years  of  the  war  she  had  been  a  welcome  guest  at  the  Executive 


Martha  Todd  White,  Mrs.  Lincoln's  ham   sister 
Original  photograph  owned  by  the  author 


Mary  Todd  Lincoln,  in  im   autumn  of  18(jj 
Metcrvc  Colled  ion 


Emilie  Todd  Helm,  as  she  looked  at  the  White  House 

Original  photograph  owned  by  the  author 


Captain  David  Todd,  Mrs.  Lincoln's  half  brother 
Original  photograph  owned  by  tlie  author 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW   TROUBLE  315 

Mansion,  until  she  filled  secret  pockets  in  her  voluminous  pet- 
ticoats with  quinine,  carried  the  contraband  south,  and  boasted 
of  how  she  had  hoodwinked  her  unsuspecting  brother-in-law. 

Now  she  again  went  boldly  to  the  White  House  and  sent 
in  her  card  to  Mrs.  Lincoln.  This  time  Mary  declined  to  re- 
ceive her.  Next  day  she  attempted  to  see  the  President,  with 
the  same  result.  Then  from  her  hotel  she  wrote  Lincoln  ar- 
rogantly demanding  a  pass  that  would  permit  her  to  "replen- 
ish" her  "wardrobe"  and  take  south  "trunks  without  being 
examined"  which  would,  so  she  said,  contain  merely  for  her 
"own  use  articles  not  now  to  be  obtained  in  the  south."  When 
Lincoln  refused  this  request,  Martha  had  talked  "secesh"  at 
the  National  Hotel  and  with  only  an  ordinary  pass  had  left 
for  the  South  in  high  dudgeon  with  considerable  baggage, 
which  received  sharp  comment  in  the  public  press. 

According  to  the  story  which  appeared  in  the  newspapers, 
"Mrs.  M.  Todd  White,  a  sister  of  Mrs.  President  Lincoln,  a 
rebel  spy  and  sympathizer,"  went  down  on  the  flag  of  truce 
steamer  New  York  from  Fortress  Monroe  to  City  Point.  When 
she  was  "passed  into  the  Confederacy,  she  carried  in  her  trunks 
all  kinds  of  contraband  goods  .  .  .  which  will  be  doubtless 
of  the  greatest  assistance  to  those  with  whom  she  consorts." 
When  General  Butler  wished  to  open  her  trunks,  "this  woman 
showed  him  an  autographed  pass  or  order  from  President  Lin- 
coln enjoining  upon  the  Federal  officers  not  to  open  any  of 
her  trunks,  and  not  subject  the  bearer  of  the  pass,  her  pack- 
ages, parcels,  or  trunks  to  any  inspection  or  annoyance." 

The  story  further  said  that  Mrs.  White  had  announced  to 
General  Butler  and  his  provost  marshal,  "My  trunks  are  filled 
with  contraband,  but  I  defy  you  to  touch  them.  Here  (push- 
ing it  under  their  noses) ,  here  is  the  positive  order  of  your 
master!"  Mrs.  White  was  thus  allowed  to  continue  her  journey 
without  the  inspection  and  annoyance  "so  peremptorily  for- 
bidden by  President  Lincoln,  in  an  order  written  and  signed 
by  his  own  hand,  and  today  the  contents  of  his  wife's  sister's 
trunks  are  giving  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy— not  least  is 


316  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

the  shock  which  these  facts  will  give  to  the  loyal  hearts  whose 
hopes  and  prayers  and  labors  sustain  the  cause  which  is  thus 
betrayed  in  the  very  White  House!"21 

Of  course  this  widely  circulated  tale  disturbed  Lincoln 
greatly— so  much  so  that  he  considered  it  necessary  to  explain 
the  whole  matter  to  his  cabinet  and  request  of  General  Butler 
a  full  statement  of  the  circumstances  under  which  Mrs.  White 
had  been  passed  through  the  Union  lines. 

Butler's  reply,  the  substance  of  which  was  printed  in  the 
New  York  Tribune,  stated  that  "Mrs.  White  went  south  with 
only  the  ordinary  pass  which  the  President  gives  to  those  per- 
sons whom  he  permits  to  go";  that  the  pass  did  not  except  her 
baggage  from  the  usual  inspection;  that  said  baggage  did  un- 
dergo inspection  without  any  contraband  goods  being  found; 
and  that  Mrs.  White  "did  not  insult  or  defy  him."22 

Butler's  emphatic  disavowal  seems  to  have  closed  this  vexa- 
tious matter  on  a  note  satisfactory  to  the  public;  but  recently 
discovered,  hitherto  unpublished  letters  written  to  Emilie  Todd 
Helm  from  a  highly  reputable  source  seem  to  discredit  much 
of  Butler's  avowal  as  to  the  inspection  of  her  baggage. 

On  September  26,  1898,  Henry  Kyd  Douglas,  a  prominent 
lawyer  of  Hagerstown,  Maryland,  wrote  Emilie  Helm.  He 
said  that  he  had  just  read  her  article  in  McClure's  Magazine 
on  Mrs.  Lincoln.  He  inquired  whether  or  not  Mrs.  Lincoln 
had  a  sister  or  half  sister  by  the  name  of  White  who  lived  at 
Selma,  Alabama. 

I  was  a  Confederate  officer  on  the  staff  of  Genl.  Jackson  (Stone- 
wall) &  subsequent  to  his  death  was  severely  wounded  at  Gettysburg 
&  captured  [continued  Colonel  Douglas] .  Nine  months  later  when 
I  was  exchanged,  Mrs.  "Todd  White,"  as  I  used  to  call  her,  was 
placed  under  my  escort  at  Fortress  Monroe  to  take  through  to 
Richmond.  I  was  very  young  2c  had  been  in  prison  for  a  long  time 
2c  she  was  so  nice  to  me,  and  I  well  remember  how  much  I  admired 
her.  I  left  her  in  Richmond  to  join  the  army  which  was  about  to 
move  to  open  the  campaign  of  1864  and  I  think  her  husband  joined 
her  there.    I  never  heard  of  her  again,  but  kept  for  years  a  silk 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW  TROUBLE  317 

handkerchief  she  gave  me.    I  see  you  do  not  mention  her  among 
Mrs.  Lincoln's  sisters  living  and  I  fear  she  is  dead.23 

When  Mrs.  Helm  wrote  Douglas  that  Mrs.  White  had  died 
July  9,  1868,  only  a  month  past  her  thirty-fifth  birthday,  he 
expressed  deep  regret  and  then  referred  to  the  "contraband" 
incident.  He  said  that  some  years  previously,  when  General 
Butler  was  governor  of  Massachusetts,  he  had  met  him  on  a 
fishing  expedition  and  that  Butler  had  recalled  the  contro- 
versial occasion  when  Mrs.  White  passed  through  Richmond 
and  the  provost  marshal  had  insisted  that  he  seize  her  baggage. 

"The  General  smilingly  asked  me,"  wrote  Douglas,  "if  it 
could  be  true  that  the  President's  wife's  sister  could  have  been 
carrying  contraband  goods  to  the  rebels!" 

Then  Douglas  went  on  to  say  that  one  of  her  twelve  trunks 
had  contained  the  trousseau  of  Hetty  Carey,  who  became  the 
bride  of  General  John  Pegram,  and  he  continued: 

By  the  way,  I  remember  another  trunk  contained  two  five  gal- 
lon cans,  one  of  old  brandy  Sc  one  of  fine  whiskey.  They  were  in- 
tended for  the  hospital.  However,  just  after  we  reached  Richmond 
Genl.  John  Morgan  who  had  escaped  from  prison  8z  some  officers 
arrived.  They  called  on  Mrs.  White  8c  she  handed  me  the  key  to 
that  trunk.  I  could  even  at  this  date  make  an  affidavit  that  none 
of  that  spirits  reached  the  hospital,  but  I  do  know  that  the  splendid 
scarlet  robe  she  once  threw  over  her  to  show  Mrs.  Stanard  8c  myself 
did  make  facings  for  several  hundred  artillery  uniforms— perhaps 
that  was  contraband!24 

Unfortunately,  the  conclusion  of  the  White  episode  did 
not  fully  solve  Lincoln's  family  problems.  Bitter  complaint 
was  being  made  of  brutal  treatment  of  Union  prisoners  by 
Mrs.  Lincoln's  brother,  George  Todd,  and  her  half  brother, 
David  Todd. 

David,  the  half  brother,  had  run  away  from  his  home  in 
Lexington  when  he  was  only  fourteen  years  of  age,  had  en- 
listed in  a  company  of  Mexican  War  volunteers,  and  had 
participated  gallantly  in  a  number  of  the  fiercest  engagements 


318  LINCOLN  AND  THE  BLUEGRASS 

south  of  the  Rio  Grande.  Restless  and  adventurous,  at  the 
end  of  the  war  he  had  joined  the  gold  rush  to  California,  had 
fought  as  a  soldier  of  fortune  in  a  Chilean  revolution,  and 
before  settling  down  in  New  Orleans,  had  spent  several  years 
on  the  high  seas  as  a  sailor.  He  had  the  colorful  Chilean  flag 
tattooed  on  his  left  arm.  There  was  also  in  India  ink  an 
anchor  on  his  right  arm,  crossed  guns  and  a  shot  and  game 
pouch  on  his  right  breast,  and  a  heart  pierced  with  an  arrow 
on  his  left  breast.25 

Now,  David  with  the  rank  of  captain  was  one  of  the  war- 
dens of  Libby  Prison  at  Richmond.  Among  other  charges  of 
cruelty  toward  Union  soldiers,  a  Sergeant  Whitcomb  of  Col- 
onel Wilson's  Michigan  Regiment  claimed  that  one  day  he 
was  leaning  against  a  post  reading  when  Captain  Todd,  who 
was  then  in  command  of  the  guard,  came  up  without  saying  a 
word  and  slashed  him  "severely  across  the  leg  with  his  saber."26 

Furthermore,  it  was  reported  that  David  was  fond  of  re- 
lating an  incident,  highly  improbable  on  its  face,  which  he 
claimed  to  have  occurred  in  the  early  days  of  the  war  when 
he  had  gone  north  to  obtain  information  for  the  South  on 
the  manufacture  of  certain  war  materials.  Without  disclosing 
either  his  mission  or  his  sympathy  for  the  Confederate  cause, 
he  had  visited  his  sister  and  her  husband  in  the  White  House. 
However,  according  to  David,  he  was  being  watched  by  gov- 
ernment detectives,  and  finally  by  order  of  the  President  he 
was  arrested.  It  was  then,  as  he  laughingly  pointed  out,  that 
he  had  promptly  and  completely  befuddled  and  outwitted  his 
stupid  captors.  Begging  the  privilege  of  attending  a  wedding 
party  over  in  Georgetown,  he  "availed  himself  of  a  favorable 
opportunity,  slipped  out,  jumped  into  a  hack  and,  compelling 
the  hackman  to  drive  him  to  the  Potomac  River,  succeeded 
in  crossing  it  and  escaped  to  Richmond,  where  he  joined  the 
Confederate  Army!"27 

George  Todd,  youngest  of  Robert  S.  Todd's  first  children, 
was  stockily  built,  intelligent,  high-tempered,  egotistical,  and 
eccentric,  unable  since  childhood  to  get  along  with  friends  or 


PROBLEMS  OF  STATE  AND  IN-LAW   TROUBLE  319 

family.  Before  the  war  his  first  wife  had  divorced  him  on  the 
ground  of  cruelty.  He  was  a  doctor,  and  when  the  war  began, 
he  joined  the  Confederacy  and  became  surgeon  in  charge  of 
the  Rickersville  Hospital  four  miles  out  of  Charleston.  Many 
sick  and  wounded  soldiers,  including  Captain  H.  A.  Coats  of 
Company  G,  Eighty-Fifth  New  York  Volunteers,  and  Captain 
C.  W.  Brant  of  the  First  New  York  Cavalry,  told  the  most 
revolting  stories  of  Dr.  Todd's  mistreatment  of  enemy  patients 
at  Rickersville.  Some  of  them  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  Todd 
was  "the  most  degraded  of  all  the  rebels"  that  they  came  in 
contact  with  during  the  war.  A  favorite  diversion  was  pro- 
claiming his  kinship  with  the  "Yankee  President"  and  then 
denouncing  him  in  the  most  lurid  and  unprintable  language.28 
Captain  Brant  said  that  he  had  never  heard  a  man  who  was 
the  doctor's  equal  in  the  use  of  "volleys  of  profane  and  obscene 
language."  In  his  "fits  of  madness"  he  would  pound  and  kick 
the  inmates,  and  order  them  "bucked  and  gagged"  for  small 
infraction  of  rules.  He  seemed  to  have  a  special  antipathy  for 
"Yankee"  patients  from  his  own  state,  and  it  was  a  young 
lieutenant  from  a  Kentucky  regiment  upon  whom  he  delighted 
to  "vent  his  spite."  One  day  the  sick  youth  gave  him  an  answer 
which  did  not  suit  him,  and  Todd  "pulled  him  off  the  bunk 
to  the  floor  and  kicked  him  in  the  most  brutal  manner."  Then 
he  had  him  bucked  and  gagged  for  more  than  an  hour.  Next 
day  the  soldier  died.  "I  am  god  damned  glad  of  it,"  said  Todd, 
"I  meant  to  kill  the  son  of  a  bitch  before  he  left  here."  Said 
Captain  Brant,  "Dr.  George  Todd  was  the  most  vicious  wretch 
I  ever  knew."29 


EIGHTEEN 


With  Malice  toward 

None 


JtiARLY  in  January,  1864,  the  Union  candidate  for  mayor  of 
Lexington  was  defeated  by  Joseph  Wingate.  Z.  Gibbons,  can- 
didate for  city  attorney,  whose  platform  was  "unfaltering  de- 
votion to  the  Union  cause,"  was  overwhelmingly  beaten  by 
Richard  H.  Prewitt.1 

On  the  same  day  the  storm  broke  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate, 
when  Garret  Davis  of  Kentucky,  protesting  absolute  loyalty 
to  the  Union,  introduced  a  vicious  resolution  against  "Abra- 
ham Lincoln,  his  office  holders,  contractors  and  other  follow- 
ers," and  appealed  to  "all  men  who  are  for  ejecting  Lincoln 
and  his  party  from  office  and  power."2 

The  yoke  of  martial  law  was  now  galling  the  anti-Lincoln 
element  of  the  Bluegrass  almost  beyond  endurance.  General 
Burbridge  was  a  stern,  harsh  commanding  officer.  Criticism 
of  the  government  was  "treason"  to  him,  and  he  dealt  with 
it  accordingly.  "For  every  depradation  committed  upon  Union 
men,  I  will  retaliate  threefold  upon  the  Copperheads  and  Rebel 
sympathizers  in  the  vicinity,"  he  wrote  Colonel  Maxwell.3 
"Have  the  men  been  shot  that  I  ordered?"  he  wired  General 


WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE  321 

Ewing.  "If  not,  have  them  shot  at  once,  except  Goulder.  Send 
him  to  Lexington."4 

But  the  President  repeatedly  thwarted  General  Burbridge 
in  the  infliction  of  the  death  penalty.  With  infinite  patience 
and  tireless  vigilance  he  seized  every  pretext  to  soften  the  rigor 
of  military  rule.  "Suspend  execution  and  send  me  the  record," 
was  the  order  that  came  over  the  wires  so  frequently  from  the 
White  House  that  the  general  wrung  his  hands  in  despair.5 

Lincoln  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  Emancipation  Procla- 
mation had  made  him  many  enemies,  not  only  in  the  Border 
States,  but  all  over  the  North.  He  realized  that  freeing  the 
slaves  probably  meant  his  defeat  for  re-election. 

But  he  had  given  the  subject  earnest,  prayerful  thought 
before  striking  the  shackles  loose.  He  had  promised  God  to 
do  it,  and  he  had  kept  his  word.6  "I  am  a  slow  walker,"  he 
said  when  asked  if  the  proclamation  was  a  finality,  "but  I 
never  walk  back."7 

And  now  as  the  torrent  of  vilification  and  abuse  rolled  upon 
him  from  all  sides,  as  friends  deserted  him  by  the  score,  the 
lonely  man  in  the  White  House  never  lost  his  faith  that  "right 
makes  might."  Calmly  he  went  about  the  performance  of  his 
daily  tasks,  while  those  about  him  marveled  at  his  droll  sim- 
plicity and  gentle,  unruffled  good  humor. 

A  little  after  midnight  [wrote  young  John  Hay  in  his  Diary], 
the  President  came  into  the  office  laughing,  with  a  volume  of  Hood's 
Works  in  his  hand,  to  show  Nicolay  and  me  the  little  caricature, 
"An  Unfortunate  Bee-ing,"  seemingly  utterly  unconscious  that  he, 
with  his  shirt  hanging  about  his  long  legs,  and  setting  out  behind 
like  the  tail  feathers  of  an  enormous  ostrich,  was  infinitely  funnier 
than  anything  in  the  book  he  was  laughing  at.  What  a  man  it  is! 
Occupied  all  day  with  matters  of  vast  moment,  deeply  anxious  about 
the  fate  of  the  greatest  army  of  the  world,  with  his  own  plans  and 
future  hanging  on  the  events  of  the  passing  hour,  he  yet  has  such 
a  wealth  of  simple  bonhommie  and  good  fellowship  that  he  gets 
out  of  bed  and  perambulates  the  house  in  his  shirt  to  find  us,  that 
we  may  share  with  him  the  fun  of  poor  Hood's  queer  little  conceits.8 


322  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Lincoln's  irascible,  humorless  secretary  of  war,  however, 
had  no  patience  with  such  apparent  frivolity.  "God  damn  it 
to  hell,  was  there  ever  such  nonsense!"  he  muttered  to  Charles 
A.  Dana  as  the  President  relieved  tedious  waiting  for  returns 
on  the  night  of  his  second  election  by  reading  aloud  from 
Petroleum  V.  Nasby.  "Was  there  ever  such  inability  to  ap- 
preciate what  is  going  on  in  an  awful  crisis?  Here  is  the  fate 
of  this  whole  republic  at  stake,  and  here  is  the  man  around 
whom  it  all  centers,  on  whom  it  all  depends,  turning  aside 
from  this  momentous  issue,  to  read  the  God  damned  trash  of 
a  silly  mountebank!"9 

During  the  weeks  following  the  Emancipation  Proclamation 
public  resentment  against  the  President  waxed  furious.  On 
March  10  at  an  elaborate  ceremony  in  Melodeon  Hall  the 
Union  citizens  of  Lexington  presented  Colonel  Frank  Wolford 
of  the  First  Kentucky  Cavalry  with  a  costly  sword,  sash,  pistols, 
and  spurs  in  appreciation  of  his  valiant  service  against  the 
rebels.  After  an  intensely  loyal  presentation  address  by  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Dandy,  Colonel  Wolford  arose  to  accept  the 
handsome  gifts  and,  to  the  amazement  of  the  audience, 
launched  into  the  most  violent  abuse  of  the  "Lincoln  govern- 
ment." In  heated  language  he  charged  the  President  with 
wantonly  trampling  upon  the  Constitution  and  crushing  under 
the  iron  heel  of  military  power  the  rights  of  the  people.  He 
declared  that  Lincoln  had  violated  his  solemn  pledge,  repeat- 
edly enunciated  at  the  commencement  of  his  administration, 
as  to  the  purposes  of  the  war.  He  denounced  his  violation  of 
the  rules  of  civilized  warfare  in  the  "indiscriminate,  wide- 
spread ruin  which  he  is  sowing  broadcast  throughout  the 
South." 

The  colonel  closed  his  speech  by  stating  that  he  was  aware 
that  there  were  always  in  every  public  assembly  nowadays 
"pimps  and  informers"  who  made  it  their  business  to  report 
to  the  "fountains  of  power  and  patronage"  what  was  said  in 
opposition  to  them.   He  called  upon  such  "ilk"  to  report  what 


WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE  323 

he  said  accurately,  and  among  other  things  they  might  inform 
Lincoln,  if  he  desired  to  know  what  those  in  the  army  whom 
he  considered  his  minions  thought  of  his  official  course,  that 
''their  opinion  was  that  he  was  a  tyrant  and  a  usurper."10 

The  Wolford  outburst  was  hailed  with  extravagant  praise 
by  the  "Conservative  Unionists"  who  were  actively  espousing 
the  candidacy  of  George  B.  McClellan  as  Lincoln's  successor.11 
On  the  other  hand,  the  speech  was  severely  condemned  by  the 
"Unconditional  Unionists,"  and  after  consultation  with  Dr. 
Breckinridge  and  Judge  Goodloe,  General  Burbridge  arrested 
Wolford.  But  Lincoln  intervened  again,  and  in  a  short  time 
the  colonel  was  released  from  custody. 

Encouraged  by  Wolford's  example,  other  champions  of  Mc- 
Clellan now  mounted  the  stump  with  venomous  tirades  against 
the  Lincoln  administration  and  his  "idolators"  in  Kentucky. 
"Lieut. -Governor  Jacobs  made  a  speech,"  wrote  Judge  Goodloe 
to  Dr.  Breckinridge.  "He  spoke  of  you  sneeringly  as  a  political 
preacher.  His  speech  was  short  &  weak  &  he  is  very  small  po- 
tatoes. .  .  .  He  denounced  me  as  having  lied.  My  friends  ad- 
vise me  not  to  notice  it  but  I  shall  be  content  to  prove  him 
both  a  fool  &  a  liar."12 

A  call  now  arose  on  all  sides  from  the  Unconditional  Union- 
ists of  the  Bluegrass  for  Dr.  Breckinridge.  Only  his  fame  and 
eloquence  could  check  the  onrushing  waves  of  anti-Lincoln 
sentiment  that  threatened  to  engulf  that  region.  "We  are 
looking  forward  with  great  anxiety  to  our  county  court  day 
in  April  next,"  wrote  Hiram  Shaw  to  the  Doctor,  "that  you 
may  give  us  one  of  those  old  fashioned  patriotic  and  law- 
abiding  speeches  that  we  so  much  need  in  these  lawless  k 
perilous  times."13  And  on  April  court  day  before  an  audience, 
presided  over  by  Judge  Goodloe,  that  packed  Cheapside,  Dr. 
Breckinridge  poured  a  thundering  broadside  into  the  Copper- 
heads and  "McClellanites"  that  wreathed  the  Lincoln  men 
with  smiles. 

Five  weeks  later  the  Doctor  was  chosen  on  the  Kentucky 
delegation  to  the  National  Union  convention.    The  news  that 


324  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

the  rugged  old  patriot  would  be  at  Baltimore  caused  great 
joy  among  the  supporters  of  the  administration,  and  a  friend 
informed  him  that  Lincoln  was  "especially  gratified."  Urgent 
invitations  were  received  to  speak  in  Boston,  New  York,  and 
Brooklyn,  which  the  Doctor  was  compelled  to  decline. 

Your  letter  [wrote  another  friend  to  Breckinridge]  contained 
so  much  that  was  definite  and  apparently  conclusive  about  Kentucky 
affairs,  and  especially  stated  the  duty  of  the  Gen'l  Gov't  to  protect 
the  loyal,  and  the  purity  of  elections  8cc,  if  necessary,  in  that  state 
that  I  thought,  although  you  did  not  request  it,  it  would  be  well 
to  show  it  to  the  President.  I  went  to  the  White  House  the  next 
day,  and  sent  in  my  card,  and  put  on  it  "with  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Breckinridge  on  the  political  situation  in  Kentucky."  I  was  soon 
invited  in,  in  advance  of  several  gentlemen  who  were  there  before 
me.  This  I  attributed  to  the  letter  I  had  from  you.  The  President 
was  much  gratified  at  the  whole  letter— said  your  view  of  the  po- 
litical situation  there  corresponded  with  what  Col.  Hodges  had 
written  him  &c.  When  he  came  to  that  part  where  you  spoke  of 
the  General  government  exercising  its  powers  in  the  elections,  if 
necessary,  he  paused  and  said,  with  a  good  deal  of  emphasis  and 
stern  expression  of  countenance,  "whenever  it  is  needed  and  we  can 
understand  it,  the  loyal  people  of  Kentucky  shall  have  all  the  aid 
and  protection  which  the  power  of  the  government  can  give  them."14 

Lincoln  had  never  yet  ignored  a  plea,  personal  or  political, 
trifling  or  important,  from  any  of  the  "loyal  people"  of  his 
state.  Indeed  the  radical  element  in  Congress  charged  that  he 
lent  a  too  sympathetic  ear  to  the  friends  and  relatives  of  those 
in  arms  against  the  Union.  Appeals  of  all  sorts,  many  of  them 
from  central  Kentucky,  came  to  the  White  House  almost  daily, 
and  frequently  efforts  were  made  to  enlist  Mrs.  Lincoln's  in- 
fluence with  her  husband. 

On  March  31,  1864,  Mrs.  Lincoln  received  a  letter  from 
Mrs.  Sallie  Ward  Hunt,  one  of  the  noted  belles  of  the  Blue- 
grass,  whose  husband  was  with  Morgan.  She  wrote  to  "beg" 
her  "influence"  in  procuring  the  release  of  "some  white  satin 
chairs,  piano,"  and  other  valuable  personal  effects  which  were 
being  held  by  Union  authorities  in  New  Orleans.    "The  ar- 


WITH  MALICE   TOWARD  NONE  325 

tides  mentioned  are  endeared  to  me  by  association,"  she  ex- 
plained. "As  a  musician  my  piano  I  love  as  a  friend.  .  .  .  Re- 
lying upon  your  known  kindness  and  nobleness  of  heart,  I  hope 
to  hear  from  you  and  through  your  influence  to  obtain  my 
wishes."15 

Several  weeks  later  one  of  the  President's  confidential  ad- 
visers in  Kentucky  received  the  following  communication: 

Executive  Mansion, 
Washington,  April  11.  1864. 
Whom  it  may  concern 

I  know  nothing  on  the  subject  of  the  attached  letter,  except  as 
therein  stated.  Neither  do  I  personally  know  Mrs.  Hunt.  She  has, 
however,  from  the  beginning  of  the  war,  been  constantly  represented 
to  me  as  an  open,  and  somewhat  influential  friend  of  the  Union. 
It  has  been  said  to  me,  (I  know  not  whether  truly)  that  her  hus- 
band is  in  the  rebel  army,  that  she  avows  her  purpose  to  not  live 
with  him  again,  and  that  she  refused  to  see  him  when  she  had  an 
opportunity  during  one  of  John  Morgan's  raids  into  Kentucky.  I 
would  not  offer  her,  or  any  wife,  a  temptation  to  a  permanent  sep- 
aration from  her  husband;  but  if  she  shall  avow  that  her  mind  is 
already,  independently  and  fully  made  up  to  such  separation,  I  shall 
be  glad  for  the  property  sought  by  her  letters,  to  be  delivered  to 
her,  upon  her  taking  the  oath  of  December  8,  1863. 

A.  Lincoln16 

As  the  date  for  the  convention  approached,  disastrous  news 
from  the  battle  front  increased  the  apprehension  of  those  most 
concerned  in  the  renomination  and  re-election  of  Abraham 
Lincoln.  Grant  was  on  the  road  to  Richmond,  but  he  was 
paying  Lee  a  terrible  toll.  Twelve  thousand  Union  soldiers 
had  fallen  at  Cold  Harbor  in  half  an  hour.  Transports  blocked 
the  Potomac  with  the  dead  and  wounded.  The  stock  market 
collapsed,  and  hoarse  shouts  went  up  from  the  Copperheads 
for  the  abdication  of  "Lincoln,  the  bloody  Tyrant." 

On  June  7,  1864,  Senator  Morgan  called  the  perspiring 
delegates  of  the  National  Union  convention  to  order  in  the 
Front  Street  Theater  at  Baltimore.  A  military  band  from  Fort 
McHenry  "animated  the  crowded  theatre  with  national  airs, 


326  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

and  the  assemblage  was  graced  by  the  presence  of  many  ladies, 
who  were  accommodated  in  one  of  the  tiers  of  boxes."  In  a 
brief  speech  the  senator  from  New  York  announced  the  choice 
of  Dr.  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  for  temporary  chairman,  and  the 
roof  rang  with  three  cheers  for  the  "Old  War  Horse  of  Ken- 
tucky." 

As  the  senator  closed  his  remarks,  Dr.  Breckinridge  quietly 
emerged  from  one  of  the  wings,  walked  down  to  the  front  of 
the  stage,  and  stood  calmly  waiting  for  the  thunderous  ap- 
plause to  subside.  With  his  "white  grizzly  hair  parting  almost 
from  the  brows,  thin  face  and  long  pointed  beard,"  the  tem- 
porary chairman  was  the  most  striking  figure  in  the  crowded 
hall.  Senators  on  the  platform  and  in  the  audience  caught  the 
strong  resemblance  in  physique,  voice,  and  personality  to  their 
old  colleague,  John  C.  Breckinridge,  now  a  major  general  in 
the  Confederate  army.17 

Then,  in  low,  melodious  tones  with  "every  word  dropping 
from  his  lips  like  a  coin  of  gold— clear-cut,  bright  and  beauti- 
ful," he  began  the  delivery  of  probably  the  most  remarkable 
speech  that  ever  fell  upon  the  ears  of  a  political  gathering. 
At  the  very  outset  of  his  remarks  Dr.  Breckinridge  assumed 
that  the  Union  candidate  for  the  Presidency  was  already  nomi- 
nated. "No  man  doubts,"  said  he,  "that  Abraham  Lincoln 
shall  be  the  nominee."  But  besides  the  selection  of  a  President 
and  a  Vice-President,  there  were  "other  most  solemn  duties 
to  perform.  You  have  to  lay  down  with  clearness  and  precision 
the  precepts  on  which  you  intend  to  carry  on  this  great  po- 
litical contest  and  prosecute  the  war  which  is  underneath 
them." 

The  Doctor  declared  that  he  was  absolutely  detached  from 
politics.  He  was  ready  to  join  with  all  persons,  regardless  of 
former  party  affiliations,  who  "do  not  intend  to  permit  this 
nation  to  be  destroyed.  ...  As  a  Union  party,"  said  he,  "I 
will  follow  you  to  the  end  of  the  earth,  and  to  the  gates  of 
death.  But  as  an  Abolition  party,  as  a  Republican  party,  as 
a  Whig  party,  as  a  Democratic  party,  as  an  American  party  I 


WITH  MALICE   TOWARD  NONE  327 

will  not  follow  you  one  foot."  He  dwelt  at  length  upon  Lin- 
coln's objects  and  purposes  in  the  great  conflict,  and  his  plans 
for  reconstruction.  And  in  his  peroration  the  "tall,  slender 
Southerner,  with  eyes  peering  from  heavy,  overhanging  brows, 
fairly  electrified  the  crowd  of  doubting,  jealous  delegates."18 

"No  government  has  ever  been  built  upon  imperishable 
foundations  which  were  not  laid  in  the  blood  of  traitors.  It 
is  a  fearful  truth,  but  we  had  as  well  avow  it  at  once.  Every 
blow  you  strike,  and  every  rebel  you  kill,  every  battle  you  win, 
dreadful  as  it  is  to  do  it,  you  are  adding,  it  may  be  a  year,  it 
may  be  a  century,  or  ten  centuries  to  the  life  of  the  govern- 
ment and  the  freedom  of  your  children." 

As  these  words  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  venerable  preacher- 
orator,  the  delegates  sat  as  if  stunned  by  the  very  intensity  of 
his  utterance.  Friends  of  many  years  who  knew  that  the  old 
patriot  had  a  "rebel"  nephew  and  two  "rebel"  sons  whom  he 
loved  better  than  life  found  their  eyes  blurred  with  tears  as 
he  struggled  to  control  his  emotions  and  then  continued: 

"I  know  very  well  that  the  sentiments  which  I  am  uttering 
will  cause  a  great  odium  in  the  state  in  which  I  was  born,  which 
I  love,  where  the  bones  of  two  generations  of  my  ancestors, 
and  some  of  my  children  are,  and  where  very  soon  I  shall  lay 
my  own.  I  know  very  well  that  my  colleagues  will  incur  odium 
if  they  endorse  what  I  say  and  they,  too,  know  it.  But,"  and  he 
raised  his  long  arms  high  above  his  head  and  spoke  with  a 
slow,  firm,  ringing  emphasis  that  sent  a  thrill  through  the  con- 
vention, "we  have  put  our  faces  toward  the  way  in  which  we 
intend  to  go,  and  we  will  go  in  it  to  the  end."19 

The  masterly  keynote  address  removed  the  last  semblance 
of  discord  among  the  delegates.  Their  duty  was  plain.  The 
war  must  be  won.  Old  Abe  must  be  kept  on  the  job.  And 
on  the  following  day  Abraham  Lincoln  was  unanimously  nomi- 
nated as  the  Union  candidate  for  President  of  the  United  States. 

Twenty-four  hours  later  Dr.  Breckinridge  arrived  in  Wash- 
ington with  the  committee  appointed  to  notify  Lincoln  of  the 
convention's  choice.    On  Sunday,  June  12,  Senator  Browning 


328  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

made  a  notation  in  his  diary:  "Attended  church  at  Repre- 
sentatives' Hall— Rev  Robt  J  Breckenridge  preached  a  very 
superior  sermon,  but  I  think  hundreds  were  disappointed  at 
not  hearing  a  stump  speech.  T'was  a  pure  gospel  sermon,  and 
very  able."20 

The  Doctor,  however,  had  little  time  to  tarry  in  the  Capital. 
Stormy  events  were  occurring  in  Kentucky  which  urgently  re- 
quired him,  as  General  Burbridge's  chief  adviser,21  at  Lexing- 
ton. Morgan's  cavalry  was  again  sweeping  toward  the  Bluegrass, 
leaving  terror  and  destruction  in  its  wake. 

A  year  before,  General  Morgan  and  most  of  his  brigade 
had  been  captured  on  his  ill-fated  raid  through  Ohio.  Four 
months  later  by  daring  strategy  he  had  escaped  from  the  Colum- 
bus penitentiary,  but  with  the  bulk  of  his  command  in  north- 
ern prisons  and  the  rest  scattered  through  other  divisions  of 
the  Confederate  army,  only  a  few  boys  from  the  Bluegrass  now 
rode  with  him  on  his  last  excursion  into  Kentucky.22 

On  June  8  Morgan's  troopers  routed  Burbridge's  infantry 
at  Mount  Sterling  and  robbed  the  Farmer's  Bank  of  $60,000. 
At  three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  tenth  the  flying  columns 
swooped  down  upon  Lexington  and  by  daybreak  were  in  full 
possession  of  the  city.  "They  immediately  proceeded  to  help 
themselves  to  whatever  they  wanted,  and  did  so  unstintingly," 
reported  the  Observer.  "They  broke  open  nearly  all  the  shoe 
stores  and  hat  stores  in  the  place  together  with  Mr.  Spencer's 
saddlery  establishment,  from  which  they  took  everything  they 
desired.  .  .  .  The  livery  stable  of  Mr.  Frank  Hord  was  visited 
and  the  finest  horses  in  it  were  taken.  Mr.  John  M.  Clay  had 
taken  from  him  about  $25,000.00  worth  of  horses,  among  them 
being  the  famous  Skedaddle,  for  which  he  had  been  offered 
$8,000.00. "23  The  Observer  also  reported  the  burning  of  the 
extensive  brewery  of  Messrs.  Wolf  and  Walker,  the  stables  of 
Jas.  A.  Grinstead  at  the  Association  Race  Course,  and  the  rob- 
bery of  the  Branch  Bank  of  Kentucky  of  about  $10,000  in  gold, 
silver,  and  greenbacks.24 


WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE  329 

I  was  startled  on  learning  from  Judge  Carr  [wrote  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Pratt]  that  Jno.  Morgan  was  in  the  state  8c  that  he  was  ex- 
pected in  town  next  morning  with  his  men  supposed  to  be  3  or  4 
thousand.  We  went  down  town  &  found  it  was  fully  expected.  1 
hastened  home  8c  told  my  wife  8c  we  concluded  to  retire  8c  take 
everything  quietly.  I  was  fearful  the  rascals  would  come  8c  steal 
my  horse  so  at  2:00  o'clock  I  got  up  and  concealed  my  horse  in  my 
smoke  house,  my  neighbor  Beck  concealing  his  at  the  same  time. 
While  doing  so,  we  saw  three  large  fires  break  out  in  quick  suc- 
cession. ...  It  looked  frightful  as  if  the  town  was  to  be  set  on 
fire.  I  got  the  servants  up.  I  had  vessels  filled  with  water  to  ex- 
tinguish fire  if  our  house  was  set  on  fire.  We  heard  random  shots. 
After  a  while  we  lay  down  in  our  clothes,  and  at  4:00  o'clock  an- 
other heavy  picket  firing  all  about  town,  8c  we  had  the  sad  spectacle 
of  over  two  thousand  rebels  entering  the  town.  The  Federal  forces 
retired  to  the  fort  8c  shortly  commenced  throwing  loud  shells  from 
the  fort  over  the  town  to  where  they  were.  It  was  hypnotic  to  see 
these  missiles  of  death  flying,  whizzing  over  our  houses.  The  rebels 
commenced  stealing  immediately,  bursting  open  stores,  especially 
shoe,  hat  8c  clothing  8c  saddle  8c  gathering  up  all  the  horses  about 
town.  They  cleaned  out  a  number  of  establishments  leaving  scarce- 
ly anything.  They  also  robbed  almost  every  individual  they  met 
of  money,  watches  8c  pistols.  They  required  Mr.  Hill,  cashier  of 
Branch  Bank  to  open  the  vaults  8c  took  10,000  dollars  mostly  special 
deposits,  of  which  Bro.  Plunkett  lost  near  3,000  dollars  in  gold. 
They  tried  the  other  banks  but  got  thwarted  in  their  plans.25 

With  Burbridge  and  heavy  reinforcements  hotly  on  his 
heels,  Morgan's  stay  in  Lexington  was  only  a  matter  of  hours. 
By  seven  o'clock  that  morning  he  was  out  of  town  on  his  way 
through  Georgetown,  Cynthiana,  Flemingsburg,  West  Liberty, 
and  thence  over  the  mountains  back  into  Virginia. 

However,  the  general  and  his  hard-riding  cavalrymen  did 
not  escape  unscathed.  Grave  disaster  met  them  at  Cynthiana. 
On  June  13  General  Burbridge  wired  General  Halleck:  "I 
attacked  Morgan  at  Cynthiana  at  daylight  yesterday  morning, 
and  after  an  hour's  hard  fighting  completely  routed  him,  killing 
300,  wounding  as  many,  and  capturing  nearly  400. "26 

The  following  day  Lincoln  personally  thanked  Burbridge, 


330  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

saying,  "Have  just  read  your  despatch  of  action  at  Cynthiana. 
Please  accept  my  congratulation  and  thanks  for  yourself  and 
command."27 

The  "rebel"  raid  came  at  just  the  right  moment  to  render 
great  assistance  to  the  Union  cause  at  the  approaching  election. 
For  months  the  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  Louisville 
Journal,  and  other  Copperhead  newspapers  had  bitterly  de- 
nounced the  tyranny  and  oppression  of  the  Union  troops,  but 
the  recent  invasion  of  the  Confederates  demonstrated  the  fact 
that  soldiers  were  very  much  alike  regardless  of  the  uniform 
they  wore. 

With  the  harrowing  experiences  of  the  middle  of  June 
fresh  in  the  public  mind,  the  Unionists  of  Lexington  labored 
with  unceasing  vigor  for  the  re-election  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 
Dr.  Breckinridge  made  many  speeches  in  various  portions  of 
Kentucky. 

On  September  12  Mrs.  Lincoln's  brother  Levi  wrote  Lin- 
coln that  on  that  date— court  day  in  Lexington— "at  the  Odd 
Fellows  Hall  .  .  .  our  old  Friend  Dr  Robt.  Breckinridge  ad- 
dressed and  made  an  appeal  in  your  behalf  that  was  greeted 
with  thunderering  [sic]  applause.  ...  I  hope  to  see  you  get 
the  vote  of  Kentucky  where  you  Mary  and  myself  hailed  from. 
I  will  do  my  best  to  affect  it  ...  in  place  of  getting  only  one 
vote  in  the  city  and  four  in  the  County  of  Fayette  at  your  last 
election  you  will  receive  at  least  One  Thousand." 

Levi  closed  his  letter,  as  he  had  done  on  other  occasions, 
with  a  request  for  money.  "I  wish  you  would  do  me  a  favor 
for  say  Decbr.  1st.  and  loan  me  from  $150  to  $200  at  the  end 
of  which  time  I  will  return  without  fail  and  use  it  to  your  ad- 
vantage and  my  own  as  I  stand  in  great  need  of  things— that 
are  necessary  for  the  winter."28 

However,  Dr.  Breckinridge  was  not  as  sanguine  as  Levi 
over  Lincoln's  chances  in  Kentucky,  but  he  was  not  at  all 
willing  to  concede  defeat.  From  Cincinnati  he  wrote  the  Pres- 
ident: "I  spoke  here  last  night,  to  four  or  five  thousand  people, 
in  the  opera  house;  and  am  here,  because  I  believe  the  best 


Major  General  Cassius  M.  Clay 


Abraham  Lincoln  in  1864.   Meserve  Collection 


"Lieutenant"  Tad  Lincoln.   Meserve  Collection 


Martha  M.  Jones  and  Nellie.   From  daguerreotype  owned 
by  Nellie's  granddaughter,  Mrs.  Lewis  C.  Williams 


Lieutenant  Waller  R.  Bullock 

From  original  photograph  owned  by  Dr.  Josephine  Hunt 


'* 


*sit 


A&L 


The  Reverend  Robert  f.  Breckinridge 

Autographed  engraving  owned  by  the  Breckinridge  family 


WITH  MALICE   TOWARD  NONE  331 

thing  that  can  be  done  for  Kentucky  just  now,  is  to  carry 
Ohio— and  the  other  states  which  vote  early  in  October— by 
great  majorities.  We  can  promise  nothing  for  Ky.,  but  will 
carry  it  for  you,  if  we  can— and  are  not  without  hope."29 

The  President  could  not  know  that  at  this  very  time  when 
the  Doctor  was  pleading  night  and  day  for  the  preservation 
of  the  Union,  and  preaching  and  predicting  the  early  and 
utter  destruction  of  the  Confederacy,  his  stout  old  heart  was 
filled  with  grief  and  anxiety  over  the  plight  of  his  young  son 
Joseph,  a  Union  lieutenant  captured  in  one  of  the  battles 
around  Atlanta,  who  was  then  in  prison  at  Charleston.  In 
September  he  had  just  received  a  long-delayed  letter  from  his 
rebel  son,  William  C.  P.  Breckinridge,  a  colonel  under  Morgan, 
who  had  visited  his  brother. 

I  thank  you  for  your  letter,  and  for  your  kindness  to  Joseph 
[replied  the  Doctor] .  I  thank  God  for  preserving  your  life  amid  so 
many  dangers  and  for  His  care  of  Joseph;  and  if  my  poor  prayers 
avail  anything,  you  will  both  long  survive  these  horrible  times— 
and  my  own  departure  from  them. 

Your  suggestion  about  the  things  needed  by  Joseph  in  his  cap- 
tivity has  been  immediately  acted  upon;  the  things  will  be  sent  by 
Truce  Boat  if  possible;  they  will  be  duplicated  for  yourself  if  per- 
mission can  be  got— in  the  same  way.  I  think  it  more  important 
to  keep  him  from  suffering,  than  to  get  a  special  exchange.  But 
that  also  is  being  attended  to.  .  .  . 

And  now  my  son  if  anything  befalls  you,  wherein  a  loving  father 
may  be  of  use  to  you  personally,  in  life  or  death— let  me  know.  .  .  . 
I  have  written  this  almost  without  tears.  What  then  is  too  hard 
for  your  loving  father!30 

Late  in  September,  Breckinridge  crossed  over  into  Illinois 
and  delivered  an  address  near  Lincoln's  old  home  on  the  San- 
gamon River  in  Menard  County.  On  October  22  Salmon  P. 
Chase,  Lincoln's  secretary  of  the  treasury,  made  a  strong  speech 
at  the  Odd  Fellows'  Hall  in  Lexington,  and  when  the  polls 
closed  November  8,  1864,  the  loyalty  of  Mary  Lincoln's  birth- 
place had  been  conclusively  established. 

"Lexington  has  done  her  whole  duty,"  said  the  Lexington 


332  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

National  Unionist  in  an  editorial  styled:  "Lexington  a  True 
Union  City."  "Out  of  a  vote  of  less  than  twelve  hundred,  she 
has  given  a  loyal  majority  of  300,  and  that  too  against  the 
influence  of  the  former  political  leaders  and  the  influence  of 
the  monied  men  of  the  city."81 

However,  any  elation  which  the  Lincolns  felt  over  the  re- 
sult of  the  election  was  tempered  sharply  by  harsh  and  angry 
accusations  of  one  whose  affection  both  of  them  had  deeply 
cherished  and  warmly  reciprocated.  Emilie  Helm  had  again 
visited  the  White  House,  but  her  short  stay  had  been  a  most 
unpleasant  ordeal  for  Mary  and  especially  so  for  the  President. 
She  owned  cotton  in  the  south  which  she  desperately  needed 
to  get  out— not  only  to  save  it  from  probable  destruction  by 
Union  troops  but  to  dispose  of  it  for  the  maintenance  of  her- 
self and  her  three  small,  fatherless  children.  Emilie  had  strong- 
ly urged  and  finally  demanded  that  her  brother-in-law  permit 
her  to  do  this,  but  Lincoln  with  pain  in  his  deep-set  eyes  sadly 
shook  his  head.  Traffic  in  the  cotton  of  that  doomed  region 
was  rapidly  becoming  a  public  scandal.  Already  he  was  being 
severely  criticized  for  issuing  passes  to  persons  of  undoubted 
loyalty  who  had  speculated  outrageously  in  that  commodity. 
Patiently  and  regretfully  he  had  pointed  out  to  Emilie  that 
the  fact  of  her  being  his  wife's  sister  was  sufficient  in  itself  to 
cause  adverse  comment  if  her  wishes  were  granted,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  further  fact  that  this  property  had  belonged  to  a 
man  in  arms  against  his  country,  whose  widow  even  now  stead- 
fastly refused  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United 
States.  Emilie  had  been  unable  to  see  the  logic  of  this  position 
and  had  departed  for  home  with  deep  resentment  toward  her 
relatives  in  Washington. 

A  few  days  later  Lincoln  had  received  a  letter  from  Emilie 
which  cut  him  to  the  quick  and  infuriated  Mary.  It  began 
formally,  "Mr.  Lincoln,"  and  went  on:  "Upon  arriving  at 
Lexington,  after  my  long  tedious  unproductive  and  sorrowful 
visit  to  you,  I  found  my  Mother  stretched  upon  a  sick  bed, 
made  sick  by  the  harrowing  and  shocking  death  of  your  Brother 


WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE  333 

in  law,  and  my  half  Brother  Levi  Todd— He  died  from  utter 
want  and  destitution  as  a  letter  sent  to  Sister  Mary  by  Kitty 
gives  particulars,  another  sad  victim  to  the  frowns  of  more 
favored  relations."  She  renewed  her  demand  to  be  permitted 
to  ship  her  cotton  and  be  issued  a  pass  to  go  south  to  attend 
to  it.  She  urged  it  as  a  right  "which  humanity  and  justice 
always  gives  to  widows  and  orphans.  I  also  would  remind 
you,"  she  continued,  "that  your  minnie  bullets  have  made  us 
what  we  are  &  I  feel  I  have  that  additional  claim  upon  you." 
Then,  as  if  she  had  begun  to  realize  what  she  was  saying,  she 
concluded,  "If  you  think  I  give  way  to  excess  of  feeling,  I  beg 
you  will  make  some  excuse  for  a  woman  almost  crazed  with 
misfortune."32 

Several  months  later  Lincoln  found  it  possible  to  yield  to 
the  importunities  of  his  beloved  sister-in-law  and  ordered  Gen- 
eral Grant  to  allow  her  to  take  north  her  six  hundred  bales 
of  cotton;  and  there  is  no  evidence  that  her  tragic  letter  di- 
minished in  any  way  his  warm  affection  for  her.  Mary  Lincoln, 
however,  never  forgave  Emilie  for  her  "minnie  bullets"  and 
"more  favored  relations"  letter.  Never  during  the  remaining 
seventeen  years  of  her  life,  filled  as  it  was  with  so  many  other 
misfortunes,  would  she  consent  to  see  Emilie  again;  nor  did 
she  ever  answer  any  of  her  letters.33 

During  the  turbulent  weeks  just  preceding  the  election  the 
speeches  of  certain  McClellan  advocates  had  become  so  men- 
acing to  the  government  that  General  Burbridge  arrested  Lieu- 
tenant Governor  Jacobs  and  John  B.  Huston,  senior  member 
of  the  prominent  Lexington  law  firm  of  Huston  &  Downey 
and  an  acquaintance  of  Lincoln.  Now  that  the  campaign  was 
over,  the  friends  of  these  so-called  Copperheads  strenuously 
sought  their  release  through  influential  persons  in  Kentucky. 
On  November  9  Governor  Bramlette  sent  the  President  an 
indignant  telegram  in  which  he  advised  him  that  Huston  had 
been  arrested  "for  no  other  reason  than  opposition  to  your  re- 
election." On  the  following  day  the  governor  received  Lin- 
coln's droll  response: 


334  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Washington,  D.  C,  Nov.  10  1864. 
Gov.  Bramlette 
Frankfort,  Ky. 

Yours  of  yesterday  received.  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  Gen. 
Jno.  B.  Houston  has  been  arrested  "for  no  other  offence  than  op- 
position to  my  re-election"  for  if  that  had  been  deemed  sufficient 
cause  for  arrest,  I  should  have  heard  of  more  than  one  arrest  in 
Kentucky  on  election  day.  If  however,  Gen.  Houston  has  been 
arrested  for  no  other  cause  than  opposition  to  my  re-election,  Gen. 
Burbridge  will  discharge  him  at  once,  I  sending  him  a  copy  of  this 
as  an  order  to  that  effect. 

A.  Lincoln.34 

On  the  same  day  General  Burbridge  wired  Bramlette: 
"When  the  civil  authorities  make  no  effort  to  suppress  dis- 
loyalty, the  military  must  and  will,"  and  next  day  he  replied 
to  the  President's  telegram,  advising  that  Huston  had  been 
arrested  not  because  of  his  opposition  to  Lincoln  but  because 
his  "influence  &  speeches  have  been  of  a  treasonable  character 
.  .  .  after  several  warnings.  ...  A  vigorous  policy  against  rebel 
sympathizers  in  this  State  must  be  pursued,"  said  General 
Burbridge.35 

About  this  time  Clarence  Prentice  quarreled  with  another 
Confederate  officer  and  shot  him  dead  in  the  lobby  of  a  Rich- 
mond hotel.  Upon  receiving  the  news,  the  editor  of  the 
Louisville  Journal  caught  the  next  train  for  Washington  to 
obtain  a  pass  to  visit  Clarence,  who  was  held  in  jail  by  the 
civilian  authorities.  Prentice  had  unceasingly  wielded  a  poison 
pen  against  the  man  in  the  White  House  in  the  recent  cam- 
paign and  thus  had  done  much  to  throw  the  electoral  vote  of 
the  President's  native  state  to  McClellan— who  received  only 
those  of  Kentucky,  Delaware,  and  New  Jersey— but  the  unvin- 
dictive  Lincoln  now  saw  only  another  father  in  distress  over 
his  son,  and  Prentice  was  soon  on  his  way  south.36 

As  for  Dr.  Breckinridge,  his  joy  at  Lincoln's  victory  and  the 
loyal  support  of  his  home  city  wTas  clouded  by  an  impending 
tragedy  in  his  own  family.    Early  in  October  he  had  fallen 


WITH  MALICE   TOWARD  NONE  335 

from  his  horse  at  his  country  estate,  and  for  a  time  his  injuries 
were  thought  to  be  fatal.  But  the  Doctor  clung  as  tenaciously 
to  life  as  he  did  to  the  Union,  and  for  two  weeks  preceding 
the  election,  though  confined  to  his  bed,  he  directed  the  final 
preparations  for  battle  at  the  polls. 

Early  one  morning,  just  after  General  Bur  bridge  and  three 
Lexington  civilians  had  left  a  political  conference  at  Dr.  Breck- 
inridge's bedside,  four  Confederate  officers  rode  out  of  a  thicket, 
hitched  their  horses  to  the  back  fence,  and  entered  the  house. 
Colonel  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  Jr.,  had  not  seen  his  father 
for  four  years.  Major  Theodore  Steele,  a  son-in-law,  was  hun- 
gry for  the  sight  of  his  wife,  who  recently  had  been  permitted 
by  the  military  authorities  to  return  to  the  Doctor's  tender  care. 

"Father,"  exclaimed  the  young  Confederate  colonel  as  he 
rushed  into  the  sick  room,  "I  heard  you  were  fatally  injured. 
I  have  ridden  eighty  miles  without  drawing  bridle,  to  embrace 
you  once  more,"  and  in  another  moment  the  old  patriot  and 
his  long  absent  rebel  son  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms.37 

After  breakfast,  realizing  the  fearful  risk  of  being  within 
the  Union  lines,  the  party  left  "Braedalbane."  They  had  pro- 
ceeded, however,  only  a  short  distance  from  Lexington  when 
Major  Steele  was  captured  by  Union  troops  near  the  town  of 
Cynthiana  and  hurried  off  to  prison  at  Louisville.38 

Almost  immediate  pressure  was  brought  to  bear  upon  Dr. 
Breckinridge  to  secure  his  release,  but  the  Doctor  sadly  shook 
his  head.  "The  distress  of  my  daughter  breaks  my  heart,"  said 
he,  "but  the  fact  that  Major  Steele  is  my  son-in-law,  to  whom 
I  am  personally  devoted,  entitles  him  to  no  more  consideration 
than  any  other  rebel  soldier." 

The  incident  was  thus  closed  until  Breckinridge  learned 
on  the  day  before  the  election  that  the  officer  in  command  at 
Louisville  had  ironed  Major  Steele,  put  him  in  solitary  con- 
finement, and  was  preparing  to  court-martial  and  hang  him 
as  a  guerrilla  spy.  With  his  daughter  and  his  grandchildren 
frantic  at  the  sudden  turn  of  affairs,  the  Doctor  began  a  lengthy, 
heated  correspondence  with  the  Union  military  authorities. 
Indignantly  he  pointed  out  that  Major  Steele  was  dressed  in 


336  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

the  full  uniform  of  a  Confederate  officer  at  the  time  of  his 
capture  and  that  by  all  the  rules  of  civilized  warfare  his  status 
ought  to  be  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  prisoner  of  war. 

The  official  in  charge  replied  that  Steele  had  entered  the 
Union  lines  "in  obedience  to  a  C.  S.  A.  War  Department 
order";  that  he  had  been  "recruiting  within  and  forwarding 
recruits  from  our  lines  for  the  so-called  Confederate  States  of 
America";  and  that  he  was  an  associate  of  "Mose  Webster,  a 
notorious  scoundrel,  who  had  stolen  $2,000.00  from  Tunis  at 
Williamstown."39  Finding  the  authorities  obdurate  and  firm 
in  their  determination  to  have  the  major  tried  as  a  spy,  Breck- 
inridge roundly  denounced  them,  served  notice  that  he  would 
appear  as  Steele's  counsel  at  the  court-martial,  and  turned  to 
Lincoln  for  assistance. 

On  December  18,  1864,  Judge  Goodloe  and  a  delegation 
from  Lexington  arrived  at  the  White  House  and  placed  in 
the  President's  hands  a  sealed  communication  from  Dr.  Breck- 
inridge. The  contents  of  that  document  are  not  known,  but 
when  Lincoln  had  read  it  half  through,  he  picked  up  his  pen, 
wrote  rapidly  for  a  few  seconds,  and  handed  a  folded  paper 
to  the  spokesman,  Charles  Egenton. 

On  the  next  mail  the  old  Doctor  received  a  note  from  the 
committee  that  brought  relief  to  his  anxious  household.  "The 
President,"  wrote  Egenton,  "gave  me  a  paper  written  by  him- 
self of  which  I  enclose  you  a  copy.  I  am  to  use  the  original 
whenever  necessary  to  prevent  the  execution  of  any  sentence 
until  he  can  act  and  which  he  assured  me  would  be  favorable 
to  your  wishes."*0  And  on  January  22  word  was  received  that 
the  charges  against  Major  Steele  had  been  withdrawn  and  his 
status  fixed  as  an  ordinary  prisoner  of  war. 

These  days  the  President's  time  was  increasingly  occupied 
with  applications  for  pardons,  paroles,  passes  through  enemy 
lines,  and  other  appeals  for  executive  consideration.  To  one 
like  Lincoln,  who  so  hugely  enjoyed  the  grotesque  spelling 
and  whimsical  exaggerations  of  Artemus  Ward,  Petroleum  V. 


WITH  MALICE   TOWARD  NONE  337 

Nasby,  and  others  of  that  school  of  humorists,  the  following 
petition  from  a  doughty,  battle-scarred  old  Kentuckian,  with 
its  solemn,  unabashed,  and  uninhibited  recital  of  the  most 
unusual  and  thrilling  personal  valor,  doubtless  had  strong  ap- 
peal.   It  read: 

To  the  Honerable  Abraham  Lincoln  President  of  the  United  State, 
at  Washington  D.  C. 
The  Undersigen  respectfully  Petition  your  Honer  That  Some 
12  Month  ago  My  Gran  Sons  William  Bradley  2c  Van  Fulgium  was 
captured  by  the  Federal  Soldiers— and  are  at  this  time  in  Prisen  at 
Camp  Morton  Ind.  at  the  time  they  wer  capturd  they  wer  on  there 
way  home,  having  Served  out  there  time  in  the  Rebble  Armey— and 
was  likely  to  be  conscripted  which  they  were  vary  much  opposed  to. 
They  are  vary  desieras  to  take  the  Amnesta  Oathe  give  bond  and 
return  home  and  live  quiet  Sitizens.  They  are  the  Grand  Children 
of  the  Old  Hero  that  Served  his  Cuntry  in  the  War  of  1812.  Four 
companies  to  rescue  the  Bleeding  Fruntiers  of  Michigan  and  Ohio- 
While  Indians  was  a  yeling  around  my  Ears  like  Ten  thousand 
wild  Panthers  in  the  woods  Swearing  in  Indian  Language  that  they 
would  have  my  Scalp  or  hiar  before  day— or  make  there  Hatchets 
drunk  in  my  Blood— but  bore  It  with  corage  and  fortitude.  I  foute 
the  First  Battle  at  Tipacanoo  and  the  Second  Battle  at  the  River 
Reasen  then  drove  the  Indians  from  there  to  detroite— then  across 
the  river  to  Canida,  then  drove  Proctor  &  Elliott  from  Mauldin  to 
Moravintown— then  I  Shouted  Triumph  victory  over  Proctor  Sc 
Elliott's  and  Tecumseh's  Whole  forse.  I  hope  [helped]  Kill  Te- 
cumseh  and  hope  Skin  him  and  brot  Two  pieces  of  his  yellow  hide 
home  with  me  to  My  Mother  8c  Sweet  Hart.  After  a  few  days  rest- 
there  was  a  call  for  volunteers  to  defend  N  Orleans  I  Volunteerd 
at  the  first  Tap  of  the  drum  under  the  Immortal  Andrew  Jackson— 
I  Faught  the  Battle  of  the  8th  January  8c  was  wounded— there  we 
Throud  them  Head  and  Heels  cross  an  file,  they  coverd  10  Acres 
with  death  Blood  and  Wounds,  and  Sent  them  Home  to  old  Eng- 
land which  made  a  mash  of  Lord  Wellington  Army— I  had  one 
poore  boy  fell  in  defens  of  his  country  in  Mexico— in  this  unholy 
War  I  took  a  bold  Stand  to  put  down  this  rebelion  on  every  stump 
I  Mounted— I  have  one  Son  in  the  Union  Army  has  Served  3  years 
Sc  Volenteerd  for  3  more  58  Redg  Ind— woods  division— also  3  Grand 


338  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Children  in  the  Same  Redgment— all  of  which  is  respectfully  sub- 
mit to  your  Honerable  consideration— 

Tarrance  Kirby41 

At  the  end  of  this  remarkable  document  many  of  the  out- 
standing citizens  of  Warren  County,  Kentucky,  had  subscribed 
to  the  "patriotism,  integrity  and  veracity  of  Capt.  T.  Kirby, 
the  old  soldier  of  1812."  And  although  no  record  has  been 
found  relating  to  these  prisoners  or  to  any  executive  action 
taken  with  respect  to  them,  it  is  safe  to  assume  that  this  unique 
plea  of  the  "Old  Hero"  did  not  fall  on  deaf  ears. 

On  his  last  birthday— February  12,  1865— the  President  sat 
wearily  in  his  office  waiting  for  his  former  postmaster  general, 
Montgomery  Blair,  who  had  sent  him  a  note  requesting  an 
after-dinner  appointment.  Presently  Blair  came  in,  and  after 
an  exchange  of  greetings  with  his  old  chief,  he  inquired  about 
the  conference  with  the  Confederate  commissioners  in  Hamp- 
ton Roads,  from  which  Lincoln  had  recently  returned. 

The  President  recited  at  length  what  had  occurred  and 
concluded  by  saying  that  since  Jefferson  Davis  had  refused  to 
permit  his  commissioners  to  discuss  any  matters  which  did  not 
recognize  the  "permanent  dissolution  of  the  Union,"  the  con- 
ference had  ended  in  failure  and  the  war  must  go  on.  The 
President  was  extremely  sad,  and  after  he  had  finished,  he  sat 
gazing  into  the  open  fire— lost  in  one  of  his  fits  of  gloom. 

Just  then  they  heard  Lincoln's  eleven-year-old  son— merry, 
mischievous,  warmhearted  little  Tad— climbing  the  long,  wind- 
ing stairway  and  singing  at  the  top  of  his  shrill,  childish  voice: 

Old  Abe  Lincoln, 
A  rail  splitter  was  he, 
And  that's  the  way 
He'll  split  the  Confedersee. 

The  President  looked  up,  and  a  twinkle  crept  into  his  tired, 
gray  eyes.  "I  reckon  that's  another  ditty  Sergeant  Stimmel  has 
taught  him,"  he  explained. 


WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE  339 

Then,  as  Lincoln's  features  grew  grave  again,  Blair  quickly 
approached  the  purpose  of  his  appointment.  He  said  that 
during  the  previous  week  he  had  called  at  the  White  House, 
and  finding  Lincoln  not  yet  back  from  the  Hampton  Roads 
conference,  he  had  left  with  Secretary  Hay  a  heart-rending 
letter  from  a  Kentucky  woman  who  urgently  requested  a  pass 
to  Richmond.  She  was  the  granddaughter  of  Lincoln's  old 
friend,  Judge  George  Robertson  of  Lexington,  Kentucky.  Blair 
said  he  knew  the  President  had  been  very  busy  since  his  re- 
turn, but  he  hoped  the  letter  had  been  read  and  that  the  pass 
could  be  issued  without  further  delay. 

Lincoln  said  he  had  been  busy  but,  as  it  now  seemed,  to 
no  very  good  purpose.  He  then  told  Blair  in  confidence  that 
feeling  that  the  war,  whenever  it  ended,  would  leave  the  South 
prostrate  and  financially  ruined,  he  had  proposed  to  his  cabinet 
that  $400,000,000  be  appropriated  to  pay  it  for  loss  of  its  slaves. 
The  cabinet,  however,  had  emphatically  and  unanimously  re- 
jected the  proposal. 

As  to  the  pass  Blair  requested,  Lincoln  said  the  matter  was 
not  as  simple  as  it  seemed.  Grant  was  now  tightening  his 
operations  around  Petersburg,  the  key  outer  defense  of  Rich- 
mond, and  to  maintain  the  utmost  secrecy  of  movements,  all 
passes  through  the  Union  lines  had  been  revoked  by  executive 
order.  The  Kentucky  woman,  Lincoln  went  on  to  say,  as  rep- 
resented to  him  had  been  an  ardent  partisan  of  the  South— so 
active,  in  fact,  that  General  Burbrid^e  had  seen  fit  to  send  her 
with  the  Desha  family  to  Canada  for  a  while. 

The  fact  that  she  had  made  this  application  to  go  south 
was  already  known  and  was  now  being  bitterly  opposed  not 
only  by  the  War  Department  but  also  by  prominent  Unionists 
in  Kentucky,  who  pointed  out  that  she  might  be  the  bearer 
of  important  messages  from  the  Confederate  colony  in  Canada 
to  Richmond  authorities.  They  also  called  attention  to  the 
fact  that  her  husband's  uncle,  General  Charles  W.  Field,  now 
commanded  the  largest  and  best  division  in  Lee's  army. 

"Those  people  down  there  may  be  wrong— probably  are 


340  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

wrong  about  her,  but  I've  got  to  work  with  them  whenever 
I  can,"  said  the  President  as  he  fumbled  among  the  papers  on 
his  desk.  He  picked  up  a  tear-stained  letter  written  in  a  deli- 
cate, feminine  hand,  which  read: 

Versailles,  Woodford  Co.,  Kentucky 
February  1st,  1865 
To  His  Excellency,  President  Lincoln 

1  entreat  you  in  the  name  of  our  merciful  God  to  grant  this 
petition  of  a  bereaved  and  desolate  woman,  the  agony  of  whose 
heart  words  are  inadequate  to  express,  but  who  derives  courage  to 
urge  her  plea  from  the  painful  and  distressing  circumstances  sur- 
rounding her. 

My  husband,  Maj.  Willis  F.  Jones,  Adgt.  Genl.  of  Field's  Di- 
vision of  the  Confederate  army  was  killed  in  battle  before  Richmond 
on  the  13th  of  October  last.  I  have  been  separated  from  him  for 
two  long  years,  during  which  time  I  have  experienced  almost  every 
conceivable  trial— the  most  severe  of  which  resulted  from  the  un- 
successful application  made  in  my  behalf  to  the  War  department 
by  many  of  the  most  eminent  military  and  professional  men  of  this 
state  for  permission  for  me  to  visit  him,  during  a  dangerous  and 
protracted  illness. 

I  now  address  your  Excellency— and  entreat  you  to  grant  me  the 
privilege  of  going  to  Richmond— that  I  may  visit  his  tomb,  and  the 
friends  who  attended  his  last  moments,  and  receive  his  personal 
effects  which  are  of  sacred  and  inestimable  value  to  me;  and  also 
permission  to  bring  back  from  the  South  his  man  servant,  whom 
I  desire  to  manumit  in  consideration  of  his  fidelity  to  his  master. 

I  am  anxious  to  go  as  soon  as  practicable,  and  only  wish  to  re- 
main a  week  or  ten  days.  I  will,  of  course,  give  my  parole  of  honor, 
or  subscribe  to  an  oath  not  to  convey  to  or  from  the  South  any  in- 
formation prejudicial  to  the  Federal  army. 

My  husband,  although  an  enemy  to  the  Federal  cause,  was  a 
noble,  brave  and  gallant  man,  who  in  sacrificing  his  life  to  his 
principles,  has  afforded  your  Excellency  the  opportunity,  in  an- 
swering this  prayer,  of  displaying  your  magnanimity  to  his  heart 
broken  widow.  And  I  implore  you  to  do  so  by  granting  me  the 
required  "permit"  to  pass  through  Fortress  Monroe;  and  to  return 
again  within  the  Federal  lines,  with  every  assurance  that  no  pos- 


WITH  MALICE   TOWARD  NONE  341 

sible  injury  can  result  to  your  cause,  and  that  you  will  receive  the 
enduring  gratitude  of  a  sorrowing  heart. 

Very  Respectfully, 

Martha  M.  Jones.42 

As  Lincoln  looked  up  from  his  study  of  the  application, 
Blair  handed  him  the  open  case  of  a  daguerreotype.  "This  is 
a  picture  of  Martha  Jones,"  said  Blair.  "I  believe  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  it  shows  a  grief-stricken,  harmless  woman, 
if  there  ever  was  one." 

The  President  looked  somberly  at  the  likeness  of  a  sad- 
faced  young  mother  with  a  small  child  standing  forlornly  by 
her  side.  "That  is  Major  Jones'  daughter,  I  suppose?"  he 
inquired. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Blair,  "that  is  Nellie,  their  youngest 
child.  Her  father  was  afraid  she  might  forget  him  before  he 
saw  her  again." 

Lincoln  laid  the  picture  carefully  on  his  knee.  He  removed 
his  battered  old  spectacles  and  slowly  rubbed  the  lenses  with 
a  huge,  blue-figured  bandanna. 

"And  he  never  saw  her  again,"  he  said,  repeating  it  once 
or  twice,  softly,  compassionately,  to  himself. 

The  President  stared  meditatively  into  the  fire,  without 
further  comment,  for  what  seemed  to  Blair  a  very  long  time. 
Then  he  turned  to  his  desk  and  penned  on  a  white  card  one 
of  the  few  writings  done  by  him  on  his  last  birthday.  "Allow 
Mrs.  Willis  F.  Jones  to  pass  our  lines  with  ordinary  baggage, 
go  South  &  return.    A.  Lincoln.    Feb.  12,  1865." 

When  the  two  men  stood  up  to  say  good-by,  they  saw  that 
Tad  at  some  time  during  the  conference  had  quietly  slipped 
unnoticed  into  the  back  of  the  room  and  stretched  himself 
out,  as  he  frequently  did,  on  the  big  hair-covered  sofa  in  the 
corner.  Months  ago  the  stern,  gruff  old  secretary  of  war,  yield- 
ing to  the  whim  of  this  appealing  child,  had  commissioned 
him  a  lieutenant  of  volunteers  and  had  him  fitted  with  a 
regular  uniform  and  equipment.  Now  the  boy  lay  there  sound 
asleep,  his  small  saber  hugged  tightly  against  the  brass  buttons 


342  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

of  his  blue  coat,  his  forage  cap  tilted  back  from  his  tousled 
brown  hair. 

"God  bless  you,  Mr.  President,"  said  Blair,  grasping  the 
hand  of  his  old  chief  in  what  was  to  be  a  last,  warm  clasp. 
They  would  not  see  each  other  again. 

"And  you  also,  my  good  friend,  and  all  our  widows  and 
orphans  wherever  they  may  be  tonight,"  replied  Lincoln  fer- 
vently. 

Then  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  Union  armies  gathered 
his  drowsy  little  lieutenant— sword  and  all— in  his  long,  sinewy 
arms  and  carried  him  gently  out  the  wide  doorway  and  down 
the  dark,  silent  corridor.43 

The  winter  was  drawing  to  a  close  as  Abraham  Lincoln 
performed  his  last  act  of  mercy  for  a  native  son  of  the  Blue- 
grass  State.  Lieutenant  Waller  R.  Bullock  of  Lexington,  a 
relative  of  General  Morgan,  had  been  shot  at  Mount  Sterling, 
left  for  dead  on  the  battlefield,  and  captured  by  the  Union 
troops.  When  able  to  travel,  though  weak  and  suffering  from 
his  wounds,  he  had  been  removed  to  the  Union  military  prison 
at  Johnson's  Island,  near  Sandusky,  Ohio. 

Early  in  February,  1865,  John  Bullock,  a  lad  of  fifteen 
years,  then  in  Baltimore,  learned  from  an  exchanged  Confed- 
erate officer  that  his  brother  Waller  was  critically  ill,  but  that 
he  did  not  want  their  invalid  mother  to  know  of  his  condition. 
The  officer  expressed  the  belief  that  Lieutenant  Bullock  would 
not  live  many  more  weeks  in  prison. 

Not  knowing  which  way  to  turn  for  advice  and  thinking 
only  of  the  desperate  necessity  for  his  brother's  immediate 
release,  John  caught  the  next  train  for  Washington.  As  he 
walked  down  the  street  from  the  depot  in  the  drizzling  rain, 
he  realized  for  the  first  time  how  vague  and  indefinite  his 
plans  were.  He  must  have  a  parole  for  his  dying  brother.  But 
how  was  it  to  be  obtained?  In  all  this  dreary,  warworn  city 
there  was  only  one  person  whom  he  knew.  Montgomery  Blair, 
a  native  of   Kentucky,   was  a  distant  relative   of  his  mother 


WITH  MALICE   TOWARD  NONE  343 

and  had  been  a  classmate  of  his  father  in  Transylvania  Uni- 
versity at  Lexington.  It  occurred  to  John  that  aid  might  be 
obtained  from  this  source,  and  without  much  difficulty  the 
Blair  residence  was  soon  located. 

The  doorbell  was  answered  by  the  former  postmaster  gen- 
eral himself,  who  received  the  son  of  his  old  friend  with  kindly 
interest.  But  when  the  boy  rather  hurriedly  explained  his 
mission  and  stated  that  he  would  be  grateful  for  any  assistance 
in  obtaining  a  parole  from  Lincoln,  Blair's  cordial  attitude 
quickly  changed. 

"Such  a  request  to  the  President  would  be  altogether  use- 
less," he  said  emphatically.  "I  can  assure  you  that  there  are 
many  members  of  Congress  and  others  in  high  authority  who 
would  be  glad  to  have  their  friends  and  relatives  released  from 
prison  on  such  terms  as  you  ask,  but  are  unable  to  accomplish 
it.  Come,"  he  continued,  "take  your  lunch  with  us,  and  then 
go  out  and  see  some  of  the  sights  of  Washington;  and  I  assure 
you  that  it  will  be  time  far  more  profitably  spent  than  in  seek- 
ing an  interview  with  the  President  that  will  do  you  no  sort 
of  good." 

John,  however,  had  no  intention  of  accepting  the  proffered 
hospitality.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  surprised  and  disappoint- 
ed at  the  curt  refusal  to  help  him.  But  he  was  neither  to  be 
frightened  nor  dissuaded  from  his  purpose.  Hiding  his  cha- 
grin as  best  he  could,  he  thanked  Blair  and  set  out  alone  toward 
the  Executive  Mansion  where,  as  he  had  been  informed,  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  was  holding  a  morning  levee.  He  did  not  know 
what  a  Presidential  reception  was  like,  but  he  was  determined 
somehow  to  obtain  an  introduction  to  Lincoln. 

On  this  public  occasion  there  seemed  to  be  no  difficulty 
in  obtaining  entrance  to  the  mansion.  People  came  and  went 
apparently  as  they  pleased.  The  levee  was  in  full  swing.  From 
the  East  Room  the  Marine  Band  played  a  stirring  march.  In 
the  Blue  Room  the  President,  without  formal  introduction, 
was  shaking  hands  with  the  passing  throng.  A  short  distance 
away  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  the  wives  of  several  members  of  the 


344  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

cabinet  were  engaged  in  lively  conversation  with  a  group  of 
army  and  navy  officers  of  high  rank. 

Suddenly  the  music  ceased,  and  the  shuffling  line  of  hand- 
shakers came  to  a  momentary  halt  in  the  corridor  just  outside 
the  Blue  Room.  According  to  arrangement,  it  would  move 
forward  again  when  the  band  struck  up  another  piece. 

Lincoln  stood  in  the  center  of  the  room  alone,  his  big 
hands  clasped  in  front  of  him,  his  head  slightly  bowed  and  a 
faraway  look  in  his  deep-set  eyes.  Here  John  saw  his  chance, 
and  in  another  moment,  forgetting  his  embarrassment,  he  was 
beside  the  tall,  solitary  figure. 

"Mr.  President,"  he  said,  "I  am  the  son  of  Rev.  Dr.  Bullock, 
of  Lexington,  Kentucky,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  parole 
my  brother,  Waller  R.  Bullock,  who  is  a  Confederate  lieu- 
tenant, now  in  prison  at  Johnson's  Island,  wounded  and  sick." 
He  paused  rather  breathlessly. 

Lincoln  looked  down  into  the  anxious  upturned  face.  "You 
are  a  nephew  of  John  C.  Breckinridge,  ain't  you?"  he  inquired 
loud  enough  to  attract  the  attention  of  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  the 
nearby  group. 

"Yes,  sir,"  John  replied. 

"Then  I  suppose,"  drawled  the  President  with  a  quizzical 
look  in  his  gray  eyes,  "when  you  are  old  enough  you  will  be 
going  down  to  fight  us." 

"Yes,  sir,"  came  the  frank  answer,  "I  suppose  when  I  am 
old  enough  I  will  join  the  army." 

With  an  amused  expression  on  his  furrowed  face,  Mr.  Lin- 
coln placed  a  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "My  son,"  he  said 
in  a  fatherly  way,  "you  come  back  here  at  four  o'clock  this 
afternoon,  and  I  will  see  you  then." 

At  that  moment  the  band  started  up  again,  the  marching 
line  moved  in  between  them,  and  the  President  was  once 
more  occupied  with  the  arduous  task  of  handshaking. 

As  the  boy,  much  elated  at  his  success,  passed  out  of  the 
corridor,  he  spoke  to  the  doorkeeper  at  the  main  entrance 
about  his  appointment  with  the  President  at  four  o'clock,  but 


WITH  MALICE   TOWARD  NONE  345 

his  heart  sank  as  that  official  replied:  "He  just  said  that  to 
keep  from  hurting  your  feelings,  young  fellow,  for  I  have 
positive  orders  from  Mr.  Lincoln  in  person  to  close  these  doors 
at  two  o'clock  sharp,  and  not  allow  anybody  to  come  in— not 
even  members  of  the  Cabinet." 

This  statement  of  the  guard  gave  John  several  hours  of 
anxiety,  but  his  confidence  in  Lincoln's  word  was  fully  reward- 
ed when  he  found  himself  at  the  designated  hour  sitting  before 
a  large  open  fire  in  the  President's  study.  In  a  few  moments 
Lincoln  came  in.  Quietly  closing  the  door,  he  pushed  an  easy 
chair  near  the  fireplace,  sat  down  with  his  long  legs  stretched 
out,  and  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  chair  nearest  the 
waiting  lad.    "My  son,"  he  said,  "what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"Mr.  President,"  replied  the  boy,  looking  earnestly  into  the 
kindly,  rugged  face,  "I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  parole  my 
brother,  Lieutenant  Waller  R.  Bullock,  from  Johnson's  Island, 
where  he  is  sick  and  wounded.  He  is  not  expected  to  get  well 
and  I  want  you  to  release  him  so  that  he  may  be  brought  home 
to  die." 

Lincoln  stroked  his  bearded  cheek.  "Will  your  brother 
take  the  oath?"  he  asked. 

John  had  felt  that  this  question  was  coming.  It  was  one 
that  he  dreaded.  Yet  it  must  be  met  squarely  and  truthfully 
at  all  cost.  The  boy's  chin  quivered  slightly  as  he  sat  very 
straight  in  his  chair.  "No  sir,"  he  replied,  "he  will  not.  He 
will  have  to  die  in  prison  if  that  is  the  only  way  he  can  get  out." 

"Then  I  can  not  parole  him,"  said  the  President  decisively. 
"I  should  like  to  do  so,  but  it  is  impossible  unless  he  will  take 
the  oath." 

"But,  Mr.  President,"  John  urged,  "you  do  not  know  how 
ill  my  brother  is.  He  is  too  sick  to  stand  any  longer  exposure 
there  on  that  island  this  cold  winter." 

"My  son,  I  should  like  to  grant  your  request,"  Lincoln 
repeated,  "but  I  can  not  do  it.  You  don't  know  what  pressure 
is  brought  to  bear  upon  me  in  such  matters."  He  then  related, 
as  had  Blair,  but  more  in  detail,  how  senators  and  other  per- 


346  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

sons  of  prominence  and  influence  had  on  many  occasions  urged 
him  to  parole  relatives  and  friends  without  requiring  them  to 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Union  government,  but  he 
had  refused  to  do  so  in  every  instance. 

As  the  boy  listened  closely  to  this  recital,  he  wondered  how 
he  could  have  ever  thought  it  possible  to  succeed  where  men 
in  high  places  had  so  utterly  failed.  Zeal  to  obtain  his  brother's 
release  had  made  him  forget  that  he  was  just  a  lad  without 
friends  in  a  strange  city.  He  realized  it  now  as  a  wave  of  home- 
sickness surged  over  him.  With  a  lump  in  his  throat  he  stood 
up  to  go,  but  as  he  did  so  he  saw  through  the  tears  that  blurred 
his  vision  something  in  the  President's  sad,  patient  face  that 
gave  him  a  glimmer  of  hope.    He  resolved  to  try  once  more. 

"Mr.  Lincoln,"  he  pleaded,  "these  others  have  not  been 
cases  of  life  or  death.  It  would  be  a  great  comfort  to  our 
invalid  mother  to  have  him  brought  home  so  that  she  can 
watch  over  him  until  he  dies.  You  are  the  only  person  who 
can  do  this  for  her  no  matter  what  people  say  or  think.  Won't 
you  please  let  him  go  home  to  mother?" 

This  time  the  President  did  not  reply.  With  elbows  on 
his  knees  and  head  in  his  hands,  he  sat  in  deep  meditation. 
Then,  just  as  John  began  to  think  that  his  presence  had  been 
forgotten,  Lincoln  sprang  to  his  feet  and  struck  the  desk  a 
resounding  whack  with  his  fist. 

"I'll  do  it,"  he  exclaimed,  "I'll  do  it." 

Quickly  he  stooped  down,  picked  up  a  small,  blank  visiting 
card  from  the  desk,  and  then  deliberately  wrote  a  few  lines 
on  it. 

"That'll  fetch  him.  That'll  fetch  him,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln, 
with  a  smile,  as  he  delivered  the  precious  bit  of  pasteboard 
into  John's  eager  hands.  It  was  an  order  directing  that  Lieu- 
tenant Waller  R.  Bullock  be  forthwith  and  unconditionally 
released  and  allowed  to  go  home  and  remain  there  until  well 
enough  to  be  exchanged. 

After  expressing  his  gratitude  as  best  he  could,  the  boy  was 
about  to  go,  when  the  President  sat  down  again  in  his  easy 


The  tomb  01  Henry  Clay.    Courtesy  of  J.  Winston  Coleman,  J\ 


WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE  347 

chair  and,  throwing  himself  into  a  comfortable  position,  began 
to  ask  questions  about  old  friends  back  in  Kentucky.  In  a 
reminiscent  vein  Lincoln  spoke  of  the  many  happy  days  that 
he  had  spent  in  the  Bluegrass  and  of  an  occasion  when  for 
several  weeks  he  had  been  a  guest  of  John's  grandfather  Bul- 
lock at  his  plantation  near  Lexington.  One  of  the  persons 
whom  he  mentioned  particularly  was  the  boy's  uncle,  John  C. 
Breckinridge. 

"Do  you  ever  hear  from  your  Uncle  John?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  young  Bullock  replied.  "We  hear  once  in  a 
while  from  prisoners  coming  through  on  special  exchange:  and 
sometimes  we  have  been  able  to  receive  letters  by  way  of  City 
Point  by  flag  of  truce." 

"Well,"  said  the  President  thoughtfully,  "I  was  fond  of 
John  and  I  was  sorry  to  see  him  take  the  course  he  did.  Yes, 
I  was  fond  of  John  and  I  regret  that  he  sided  with  the  South." 
He  paused  and  that  faraway  look  came  into  his  eyes  again.  "It 
was  a  mistake,"  he  added  slowly. 

A  few  moments  later,  John  bade  Lincoln  good-by  on  the 
White  House  portico,  and  the  tall  figure  stood  watching  the 
lad  until  he  disappeared  beyond  the  flickering  gas  lights  along 
the  driveway.44 

On  Washington's  birthday  word  reached  the  office  of  the 
provost  marshal  of  Woodford  County  that  the  rebel  colonel, 
Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  Jr.,  was  at  the  residence  of  Harry 
Onan,  grandson  of  Abraham  Lincoln's  great-uncle,  Thomas 
Lincoln,  a  few  miles  from  Versailles.  The  marshal  with  seven 
men  from  Lieutenant  Boyd's  company  of  state  guards  went 
to  the  residence,  surrounded  the  house,  and  Captain  Macey 
inquired  of  Onan  if  Colonel  Breckinridge  was  there.  Onan 
replied  in  the  negative.  The  captain,  however,  insisted  upon 
searching  the  premises  and  found  Colonel  Breckinridge  in 
full  uniform  comfortably  seated  in  the  parlor  talking  with 
Mrs.  Onan.  On  entering  the  room,  Captain  Macey  said,  "Col- 
onel  Breckinridge,   you  are   my   prisoner."    Thereupon   Mrs. 


348  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Onan  jumped  to  her  feet  and  in  a  voice  quivering  with  in- 
dignation declared  as  she  drew  a  pistol  from  a  jacket  she  was 
wearing,  "The  Colonel  shall  not  surrender  to  any  of  Lincoln's 
minions." 

At  this  point  the  colonel  gallantly  stepped  between  the 
Union  officer  and  his  militant  hostess  and  quietly  surrendered. 
He  was  taken  to  Frankfort,  and  when  he  was  searched,  an 
order  was  found  from  John  C.  Breckinridge,  secretary  of  war 
at  Richmond,  directing  Colonel  Breckinridge  to  notify  all  Con- 
federate soldiers  in  Kentucky  who  were  absent  without  leave 
to  return  immediately  to  their  respective  commands,  under 
penalty  of  being  turned  over  to  the  United  States  "to  be  treated 
as  guerrillas."  A  few  days  later  Colonel  Breckinridge  was  re- 
leased on  parole.45 

On  March  4,  1865,  from  the  east  portico  of  the  Capitol, 
Abraham  Lincoln  again  took  the  oath  as  President  of  the 
United  States.  As  he  arose  to  deliver  that  touching  prose  poem, 
the  second  inaugural,  proclaiming  "Malice  toward  none;  with 
charity  for  all,"  a  shaft  of  sunlight  shot  through  the  low-hang- 
ing storm  clouds  and  rested  like  a  benediction  upon  his  weary, 
stooped  shoulders. 

The  Confederacy  was  doomed.  Slowly,  grimly,  inexorably 
the  Union  armies  were  closing  in  upon  Richmond.  Grant  was 
storming  the  ramparts  of  Petersburg;  Thomas  was  severing 
the  Confederate  communications  westward;  Sheridan  was  gal- 
loping for  the  last  time  up  the  valley  of  the  Shenandoah;  and 
Sherman  was  swinging  northward  from  Charleston  with  his 
veteran  legions  that  had  marched  to  the  sea. 

Then  upon  the  morning  of  April  9  Lee  surrendered  his 
starved,  ragged,  worn-out  heroes  at  Appomattox,  and  wild, 
hysterical  rejoicing  swept  the  North.  From  Lexington,  Joseph 
Breckinridge  wrote,  "We  have  had  the  anvil  chorus  all  day 
and  now  the  cannon  are  trying  their  style,  bells  erratically 
interspersing  their  clangorous  joy."46  "Our  city  presented  on 
Monday  a  stirring  appearance  from  early  morning  throughout 


WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE  349 

the  day,"  said  the  Observer.  "Bells  were  ringing,  cannon  firing, 
and  flags  flying  from  business  as  well  as  private  houses,  whilst 
the  streets  were  thronged  with  a  moving  multitude,  rejoicing 
over  the  prospect  of  Peace.  At  night  the  city  was  brilliantly 
illuminated  throughout.  All  of  the  public  buildings  and  most 
of  the  private  dwellings  were  lighted  up  in  a  magnificent  man- 
ner. It  was  perhaps  the  finest  exhibition  of  the  kind  ever  wit- 
nessed here."47 

On  the  evening  of  the  eleventh  a  crowd  celebrating  the 
end  of  the  war  called  at  the  White  House,  and  Lincoln,  stand- 
ing on  the  balcony,  with  little  Tad  holding  a  lamp  beside  him, 
responded  in  a  short  happy  speech,  full  of  fraternity  and  good- 
will toward  the  southern  states.  "Finding  themselves  safely  at 
home,"  he  said,  it  was  "utterly  immaterial  whether  they  had 
ever  been  abroad." 

But  the  Lexington  Observer  saw  nothing  to  praise  in  the 
President's  speech.  It  had  proclaimed  the  war  a  failure,  had 
vigorously  supported  McClellan  until  suppressed,  and  was  im- 
placably anti-Lincoln  through  and  through.  In  the  early  morn- 
ing hours  of  Saturday,  April  15,  1865,  a  light  shone  dimly 
through  the  grimy  windows  of  the  Observer's  office  on  Cheap- 
side.  Within  spitting  distance  of  the  fireplace  streaked  with 
tobacco  juice,  a  sallow,  ink-besmeared  printer,  with  a  soiled 
apron  of  bed  ticking  tied  about  his  waist,  was  feeding  large 
sheets  of  blank  paper  into  a  cylinder  press  turned  by  a  long 
crank  in  the  hands  of  a  muscular  Negro.  As  fast  as  the  moist 
sticky  pages  emerged  from  the  machine  the  "printer's  devil" 
dried  and  piled  them  carefully  on  a  nearby  bench  and  weighted 
them  down  with  a  polished  brick.  The  Observer  was  going  to 
press  with  the  last  attack  that  it  would  ever  make  upon  Abra- 
ham Lincoln. 

On  the  third  page  an  editorial  ridiculed  the  President's 
recent  response  to  the  White  House  serenaders:  "The  speech 
touches  the  general  subject  of  reconstruction;  and  this  is  han- 
dled in  the  characteristic  manner  of  the  speaker.  He  commits 
himself  to  nothing— covers  up  his  foot-prints  as  fast  as  he  makes 


350  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

them— utters  odd  similes— deals  in  meaningless  generalities,  and 
finally  leaves  the  reader  in  a  perfectly  stupid  state  of  bewilder- 
ment as  to  what  his  views  really  are."48 

The  telegraph  office  had  not  yet  opened  and  the  waking 
city  could  not  know  that  Abraham  Lincoln  was  beyond  the 
reach  of  further  calumny  and  abuse.  In  a  little  rear  room  of 
a  cheap,  humble  lodginghouse  on  Tenth  Street  in  Washington, 
surrounded  by  nurses,  physicians,  members  of  the  cabinet,  and 
friends,  the  President  lay  upon  a  narrow  cot  diagonally,  to 
accommodate  his  great  length.  He  was  wholly  unconscious 
from  a  pistol  wound  in  the  back  of  the  head,  but  seemed  not 
altogether  insensible  to  pain,  as  he  moaned  faintly  now  and 
then.  His  loud  breathing  was  accompanied  at  times  by  a  strug- 
gling motion  of  his  long,  bare,  muscular  arms.  In  the  earlier 
hours  the  heart  action  had  been  strong  and  regular,  but  as 
the  night  wore  on  it  faltered  badly.  Surgeon  General  Barnes 
sat  on  the  side  of  the  bed  with  his  fingers  on  the  President's 
pulse.  He  had  issued  frequent  bulletins  throughout  the  night, 
informing  the  horror-stricken  public  of  the  patient's  condition. 
At  six  o'clock  the  bulletin  read:  "Pulse  failing,"  and  at  six- 
thirty:  "still  failing."  From  the  hallway  came  the  low  sobbing 
of  Mary  Lincoln. 

Then,  as  daylight  crept  into  the  dingy  room,  the  intermit- 
tent moaning  ceased,  the  arms  became  quiet,  the  breathing 
grew  softer  and  fainter,  and  a  look  of  unspeakable  peace  came 
over  the  seamed  and  careworn  face.  At  twenty-two  minutes 
and  ten  seconds  past  seven  o'clock  General  Barnes  removed 
his  hand  from  the  President's  wrist  and  gently  closed  the  lid 
of  his  watch— Abraham  Lincoln  was  dead. 

Secretary  Stanton  walked  over  to  the  sagging  little  door 
that  opened  into  the  back  yard,  which  had  remained  ajar 
during  the  night.  For  a  moment  he  stood  gazing  at  the  dreary 
scene  outside.  From  leaden  skies  a  cold  rain  was  falling  stead- 
ily. Then  the  grizzled  old  statesman  turned  to  the  bed  where 
his  chief  lay  with  face  as  untroubled  and  serene  as  martyr 
ever  wore.    "Now  he  belongs  to  the  Ages,"  sighed  Stanton. 


WITH  MALICE  TOWARD  NONE  351 

And  Dr.   Gurley,   kneeling  by  the   bedside,   bowed   his   head 
upon  the  blood-stained  coverlet  and  prayed  fervently. 

The  last  end 
Of  the  good  man  is  peace.    How  calm  his  exit. 
Night  dews  fall  not  more  gently  to  the  ground, 
Nor  weary,  worn-out  winds  expire  so  soft. 

ran  the  lines  that  Lincoln  had  marked  long  ago  in  the  volume 
of  verse  at  Lexington. 


NINETEEN 


Lilac  Time 


±HE  APPALLING  news  of  Abraham  Lincoln's  assassina- 
tion spread  with  crushing  swiftness  over  the  country.  Dazed  and 
grief-stricken  by  the  catastrophe  that  had  fallen  in  the  very 
midst  of  tumultuous  rejoicing,  the  battle-worn  republic  sadly 
stripped  off  its  holiday  garments  and  donned  the  sackcloth 
of  mourning  again.1 

"I  have  no  words  to  express  what  I  feel  at  the  loss  of  our 
friend  the  late  President,"  wrote  a  Washingtonian  to  Dr.  Breck- 
inridge. "Yet  I  cannot  doubt  the  wisdom  and  goodness  &  favor 
of  Him  who  carried  Abraham  Lincoln  successfully  through 
his  perilous  task."2 

"Oh!  My  Brother,  I  do  not  believe  you  can  conceive  of 
the  sorrow  &  indignation  of  this  Community  relative  to  the 
death  of  Mr.  Lincoln,"  wrote  a  citizen  of  Baltimore.  "It  sur- 
passes all  expression!  While  I  write  it  comes  to  us  that  the 
wretched  Booth  has  gone  to  his  God.    Sic  semper  Assassins!"3 

In  Lexington  the  demonstration  of  grief  was  extensive  and 
sincere.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Pratt  sadly  wrote  in  his  diary: 
"Never  was  my  moral  sense  so  shocked  nor  did  greater  gloom 


LILAC   TIME  353 

fill  my  mind.  Lizzie,  only  10  years  old  went  out  by  herself  & 
cried  as  if  her  heart  was  broke.  .  .  .  Lincoln's  name  will  go 
down  to  posterity  next  to  that  of  Washington— 'A  Prince  and 
a  great  man  has  fallen  in  Israel.'  God  designs  it  for  the  good 
of  the  good  people.  Like  Moses  he  caught  a  glorious  view  of 
a  restored  country  8c  was  taken  away."4 

"We  mourn  his  loss  deeply,  we  knew  him  personally,  and 
to  know  him  was  to  love  him,"  said  the  National  Unionist. 
"Kind,  generous,  noble,  true-hearted  friend  of  your  country 
and  of  mankind,  Abraham  Lincoln!   farewell!"5 

Even  the  Observer  now  had  no  harsh  word  for  the  fallen 
chief.  "Differing  as  we  did  from  the  deceased  President,  we 
yet  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  in  our  judgment  he  was  a  man 
of  remarkable  mental  endowments  and  possessed  many  excel- 
lencies of  character.  The  nation  has  seldom  seen  a  sadder  day 
than  that  on  which  Abraham  Lincoln  died  at  the  hand  of  an 
assassin."6 

The  Louisville  Journal  said— and  how  well  did  its  editor 
know  this— "We  believe  that  in  the  death  of  Mr.  Lincoln  the 
Rebels  have  lost  their  best  friend  in  the  administration  at 
Washington."  Prentice  also  reprinted  on  his  editorial  page 
an  editorial  from  the  leading  newspaper  in  Richmond,  Vir- 
ginia:7 "The  heaviest  blow  which  has  ever  fallen  upon  the 
people  of  the  South  has  descended.  Abraham  Lincoln,  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  has  been  assassinated.  .  .  .  The 
thoughtless  and  vicious  may  effect  to  derive  satisfaction  from 
the  sudden  and  tragic  close  of  the  President's  career;  but  every 
reflecting  person  will  deplore  the  awful  event.  Just  as  every- 
thing was  happily  conspiring  to  a  restoration  of  tranquility, 
under  the  benignant  and  magnanimous  policy  of  Mr.  Lincoln, 
comes  this  terrible  blow.  God  grant  that  it  may  not  rekindle 
or  inflame  passion  again." 

Albert  G.  Hodges,  who  had  been  on  many  delegations  of 
Kentucky  citizens  to  the  White  House  and  whose  Frankfort 
Commonwealth  had  not  always  seen  eye  to  eye  with  the  Presi- 
dent, said: 


354  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

Not  only  was  he  one  of  Kentucky's  sons,  but  he  regarded  his 
native  State  with  a  high  degree  of  affection  and  did  all  that  he 
could  do  to  insure  her  welfare  and  to  strengthen  her  in  her  al- 
legiance to  the  Union.  He  invariably  listened  with  deference  to 
her  complaints;  her  grievances  were  attentively  considered,  and 
where  they  in  reality  existed  the  cause  was  immediately  removed. 
His  political  enemies  were  always  kindly  received  by  him  and  when 
their  requests  were  just  and  proper  they  were  promptly  granted. 
Yet,  in  no  loyal  State  had  such  personal  abuse  been  heaped  upon 
him— as  a  man  and  as  a  ruler  he  was  unmercifully  maligned  and 
ridiculed  and  persecuted. 

Even  to  speak  of  him  with  respect  was  to  subject  one's  self  to 
the  same  senseless  and  wicked  abuse.  Mr.  Lincoln  knew  all  this, 
but  the  knowledge  was  never  admitted  to  his  memory.  It  never 
kindled  malice— it  never  soured  the  kindliness  of  the  father's  heart 
toward  his  erring  children.  He  served  Kentucky  faithfully  and 
justly  to  the  end.  And  when  he  died,  she  lost  her  best  and  truest 
friend.8 

On  Tuesday,  April  18,  the  city  council  met  in  special  ses- 
sion, with  Mayor  Wingate  and  Councilmen  Bruce,  Chrystal, 
Hayman,  Johnson,  Lee,  Parrish,  Spencer,  Thompson,  Van  Pelt, 
and  Wolf  all  present.  The  mayor  stated  that  the  object  of  the 
meeting  was  to  take  action  in  regard  to  the  death  of  the  Presi- 
dent. Councilman  Lee  then  offered  a  preamble  and  resolutions 
which  were  read  and  unanimously  adopted: 

Mr.  Chairman: 

The  stern  and  unrelenting  hand  of  death,  which  is  continually 
reaping  and  gathering  its  harvest  from  the  ranks  of  humanity,  has 
again  visited  the  loyal  hearts  of  the  Nation  and  taken  away  from 
us  our  most  faithful  and  honest  Chief  Executive,  who  was  so  suc- 
cessfully laboring  in  the  great  cause  of  Union,  Universal  Liberty 
and  Peace. 

Our  Nation  mourns;  her  halls  are  covered  with  the  tapestry  of 
mourning;  her  council  chambers  have  become  silent;  we  pause  in 
our  course  because  the  spoiler  has  come  upon  her. 

To  our  beloved  and  honoured  President,  the  messenger  of  death 
came  like  a  thunderbolt  in  a  cloudless  sky.  In  the  rich  enjoyment 
of  health  and  prosperity,  with  the  rainbow  of  hope  spanning  the 


LILAC  TIME  355 

horizon  before  him,  and  after  years  of  unceasing  labor  for  his  coun- 
try, and  when  about  to  realize  the  glorious  result  of  his  toils,  an 
assassin  creepingly  comes,  bribed  no  doubt,  by  the  mad  leaders  of 
this  most  infernal  rebellion,  and,  in  the  wickedness  of  his  heart 
he  places  the  instrument  of  death  at  the  head  of  our  President  and 
widows  the  entire  land. 

Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  patriot,  capable,  earnest,  enthusiastic, 
and  full  of  kindness,  generosity  and  mercy  for  his  fellow-men.  His 
example  and  power  will  be  felt  in  the  future  history  of  his  country. 
His  deeds  do  follow  after  him  and  the  world  is  better  because  he 
lived,  and 

Whereas,  the  Governor  of  our  State  has  appointed  tomorrow, 
Wednesday,  April  19th,  as  a  day  of  mourning  and  prayer  over  the 
sad  calamity,  therefore 

Be  it  Resolved,  that  the  citizens  of  Lexington  be  and  they  are 
hereby  requested  to  close  their  places  of  business  tomorrow,  to  dress 
their  houses  in  mourning,  and  assemble  at  their  respective  churches 
to  offer  up  prayer  to  the  God  of  our  fathers  and  implore  His  bless- 
ing to  rest  upon  our  afflicted  country  and  guide  us  safely  to  the 
haven  of  peace, 

Be  it  also  Resolved,  that  the  Mayor  and  Board  of  Councilmen 
proceed  in  a  body  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Parsons'  Church  to  hear  a  dis- 
course on  the  death  of  our  beloved  President  tomorrow  forenoon 
at  11  o'clock.9 

The  council  chamber  was  then  ordered  draped  in  mourning 
for  thirty  days,  and  the  meeting  adjourned. 

Next  day,  while  the  Reverend  Dr.  Gurley  conducted  a 
brief,  simple  funeral  ceremony  in  the  East  Room  of  the  White 
House,  Lexington  paid  her  tribute  of  affection  to  Abraham 
Lincoln  and  tearfully  bade  him  a  long  farewell.  It  was  lilac 
time,10  and  the  fine  old  gardens  were  redolent  with  the  fra- 
grance of  purple  blossoms.  The  air  was  balmy  with  mellow 
spring  sunshine.  The  town  lay  shrouded  in  a  solemn,  melan- 
choly stillness. 

Schools  were  adjourned,  stores  and  other  public  places 
closed,  flags  hung  listlessly  at  half-mast,  business  houses  and 
private  residences  were  festooned  with  broad  streamers  of 
crape.   Funeral  services  were  conducted  at  the  various  churches, 


356  LINCOLN  AND   THE  BLUEGRASS 

but  the  principal  exercises  were  held  in  the  historic  Morrison 
Chapel  of  old  Transylvania,  whose  walls  had  nurtured  Jeffer- 
son Davis,  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  John  C.  Breckinridge,  and 
other  leaders  of  the  Lost  Cause.  A  large  silk  flag  draped  the 
rostrum.  A  distant  choir  of  many  voices  sang  a  touching  dirge 
with  the  soft,  shuddering  accompaniment  of  a  mammoth  organ. 
Dr.  Parsons  delivered  an  exquisite  eulogy,  and  the  vast  gath- 
ering with  deep  emotion  joined  in  the  majestic  strains  of  the 
"Star  Spangled  Banner."11  At  noon  twenty-one  guns  were  fired 
from  Fort  Clay,  and  church  bells  tolled  at  intervals  until 
evening. 

But  there  were  unhealed  wounds  in  Lexington— places 
where  the  bitterness  of  the  recent  conflict  was  still  evident. 
"We  are  sorry,"  said  the  National  Unionist,  "to  have  to  record 
the  fact  that  there  were  several  large  business  houses  of  some 
of  our  citizens  upon  which  there  was  no  evidence,  in  the  way 
of  mourning  emblems,  of  any  sorrow  at  the  death  of  the  Chief 
Executive  of  the  Nation.  .  .  .  And  we  suppose  that  they  really 
felt  no  sorrow."12 

At  eight  o'clock  Friday  morning,  April  21,  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, dressed  in  the  plain  black  suit  that  he  had  worn  at  the 
first  inaugural,  started  on  his  last  long  journey  back  home  to 
Illinois.  In  a  private  car  decked  in  somber  trappings  he  lay 
in  a  mahogany  casket  covered  with  Easter  lilies,  roses,  early 
magnolias,  and  huge  wreaths  of  lilacs.  And  as  the  train  slowly 
traveled  westward,  those  who  had  known  the  President  stood 
in  groups  on  the  streets  of  Lexington,  or  sat  in  the  lobby  of 
the  Phoenix  Hotel,  and  talked  of  Lincoln— his  humorous 
stories,  odd  sayings,  and  droll  mimicry  revived  forgotten  mem- 
ories and  brought  subdued  chuckles  and  moisture  to  the  eyes. 

The  ruthless  march  of  years  has  wrought  many  changes 
in  the  Bluegrass  town  that  Lincoln  knew.  Jordan's  Row  has 
vanished,  and  with  it  the  ancient  courthouse,  the  slave  auction 
block  and  the  forest  trees  along  the  public  square.  Court-day 
crowds  gather  on  Cheapside  no  more,  and  the  whipping  post 


LILAC   TIME  357 

has  long  since  crumbled  into  dust.  Under  the  gnarled  oaks 
of  the  Lexington  Cemetery  lie  John  C.  Breckinridge  and  the 
old  Doctor,  Judge  Robertson,  John  Hunt  Morgan,  Major  Willis 
F.  Jones  and  his  faithful  Martha.  Robert  S.  Todd  sleeps  be- 
side a  monument  to  his  three  Confederate  sons:  Samuel,  killed 
at  Shiloh;  Alex,  who  fell  at  Baton  Rouge;  and  David,  who  shed 
his  blood  at  Vicksburg.  Near  him  are  his  daughters,  Emilie 
Helm  and  Martha  White.  On  a  green  landscaped  knoll  rests 
Henry  Clay;  from  a  lofty  granite  pedestal  his  heroic  statue 
gazes  serenely  down  upon  the  peaceful  wooded  acres  of  the 
dead.  They,  like  the  eventful  era  in  which  they  lived  and  bore 
so  conspicuous  a  part,  have  long  since  passed  from  the  ever- 
changing  scene  where  Abraham  Lincoln  once  was  a  familiar 
figure  in  the  Bluegrass  of  his  native  Kentucky. 


Bibliographical 

Notes 


CHAPTER  I 

i  About  June  5,  1775.  George  W.  Ranck,  History  of  Lexington,  Kentucky  .  .  . 
(Cincinnati,  Clark,  1872),  18;  Lewis  Collins,  History  of  Kentucky  .  .  .  ,  rev.  by 
Richard  H.  Collins    (2  vols.,  Covington,  Collins,  1874),  II,  179. 

2  Lexington  Kentucky  Reporter,  July  29,  1809. 

3  "Lexington  is  nearly  central  of  the  finest  and  most  luxuriant  country  per- 
haps, on  earth."  Gilbert  Imlay,  A  Topographical  Description  of  the  Western 
Territory  of  North  America    (2d  ed.,  London,  Debratt,  1793),  48. 

4  "It  was  unanimously  resolved  to  perpetuate  the  first  opposition  by  arms  to 
British  tyranny,  by  erecting  in  the  then  wilderness,  a  monument  more  durable 
than  the  pyramids  of  Egypt  to  the  memory  of  these  citizens  murdered.  A  monu- 
ment lasting  as  the  foundations  of  the  Universe,  and  also  to  perpetuate  their 
own  devotion  to  the  sacred  principles  of  Liberty.  They  consecrated  the  new 
town  by  the  name  of  Lexington.  Such  was  the  origin  of  the  name  of  the  town 
of  Lexington."    Kentucky  Reporter,  July  29,  1809. 

5  The  London  "Cheapside"  was  an  open  square,  famous  in  the  Middle  Ages 
for  its  fairs  and  markets  and  later  for  its  fine  stores. 

6  These  are  still  preserved  in  the  newspaper  files  of  the  Lexington  Public 
Library. 

7  J.  N.  McCormack  (ed.),  Some  of  the  Medical  Pioneers  of  Kentucky  (Bowling 
Green,  Kentucky  State  Medical  Association,  1917),  53. 

8  F.  A.  Michaux,  Travels  to  the  West  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains  .  .  .  (2d  ed., 
London,  Crosby,  1805),  194-97.  As  the  traveler  approached  Lexington,  "Every- 
thing seems  to  announce  the  comfort  of  its  inhabitants.  Seven  or  eight  were 
drinking  whiskey  at  a  respectable  inn  where  I  stopped  to  refresh  myself  on  ac- 
count of  the  excessive  heat."   Ibid.,  121. 

9  William  Henry  Perrin,  The  Pioneer  Press  of  Kentucky  .  .  .  (Louisville,  Fil- 
son  Club,  1888),  16. 

10  Lexington  Kentucky  Gazette,  March  12,  August  20,  1805. 

11  Albert  J.  Beveridge,  The  Life  of  John  Marshall  (4  vols.,  Boston,  Houghton, 
1916-1919),  III,  291. 

12  Kentucky  Reporter,  October  24,  1808;  August  12,  1809. 

13  Kentucky  Gazette,  November  9,  1811. 


360  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  9-17 

14  Kentucky  Reporter,  June  27,  1812. 

15  Kentucky  Gazette,  September  15,  1812. 

16  Ibid.,  October  19,  23,  1813. 

17  Robert  B.  McAfee,  History  of  the  Late  War  in  the  Western  Country  (Bowl- 
ing Green,  Ohio,  Historical  Publications  Co.,  1919),  295.  The  author  owns  Col- 
onel Johnson's  pistol. 

18  "Society  is  polished  and  polite.  They  have  a  theater;  and  their  balls  and 
assemblies  are  conducted  with  as  much  ease  and  grace  as  they  are  anywhere 
else,  and  the  dresses  of  the  parties  are  as  tasty  and  elegant.  Strange  things  these 
in  the  'back  woods.'"  Niles'  Weekly  Register  (Baltimore,  1811-1849),  VI  (June 
11,  1814),  250. 

19  Samuel  R.  Brown,  The  Western  Gazetteer  .  .  .  (Auburn,  N.  Y.,  Southwick, 
1817),  91-95. 

20  "There  is  a  distinct  and  striking  moral  physiognomy  to  this  people;  an  en- 
thusiasm, a  vivacity  and  ardour  of  character,  courage,  frankness,  generosity,  that 
has  been  developed  with  the  peculiar  circumstances  under  which  they  have  been 
placed."  Timothy  Flint,  Recollections  of  the  Last  Ten  Years  .  .  .  (Boston,  Cum- 
mings,  Hilliard,  1826),  71. 

21  William  Elsey  Connelley  and  E.  M.  Coulter,  History  of  Kentucky,  ed.  by 
Charles  Kerr   (5  vols.,  Chicago,  American  Historical  Society,  1922),  II,  1055. 

22  Kentucky  Reporter,  June  14,  1824.  Davis  was  at  Transylvania  from  the 
autumn  of  1821  until  he  left  for  West  Point  in  August,  1824.  William  E.  Dodd, 
Jefferson  Davis   (Philadelphia,  Jacobs,  1907),  20. 

23  Kentucky  Reporter,  February  28,  March  7,  1825. 

24  This  original  volume  is  now  in  the  Foreman  M.  Lebold  Collection,  Chicago. 

25  When  Mrs.  Crawford  gave  this  book  to  Herndon,  she  told  him  that  this 
was  the  volume  out  of  which  "Lincoln  learned  his  Speaches."  See  note  of  Jesse 
Weik  and  letter  from  Herndon  to  J.  E.  Remsburg,  August  24,  1887,  inserted  in 
this  book. 

26  "Lexington  is  a  singularly  neat  and  pleasant  town,  on  a  little  stream  that 
meanders  through  it.  It  is  not  so  large  and  flourishing  as  Cincinnati;  but  it 
has  an  air  of  leisure  and  opulence  that  distinguishes  it  from  the  busy  bustle  and 
occupation  of  that  town.  In  the  circles  where  I  visited,  literature  was  most  com- 
monly the  topic  of  conversation.  The  window  seats  presented  the  blank  covers 
of  the  new  and  most  interesting  publications.  The  best  modern  works  had  been 
generally  read.  ...  In  effect,  Lexington  has  taken  the  tone  of  a  literary  place, 
and  may  be  fitly  called  the  Athens  of  the  West."   Flint,  67-68. 


CHAPTER  II 

1  Abraham  Lincoln  thought  that  his  grandfather  was  killed  about  1784,  but  it 
is  now  known  that  his  death  occurred  in  May,  1786.  Louis  Austin  Warren,  Lin- 
coln's Parentage  &  Childhood  .  .  .    (New  York,  Century,  1926),  4. 

2  Waldo  Lincoln,  History  of  the  Lincoln  Family  .  .  .  (Worcester,  Mass.,  Com- 
monwealth, 1923),  98. 

3  Evidently  a  strong  bond  of  attachment  existed  between  these  two  brothers, 
as  Abraham  named  his  youngest  son  Thomas,  and  Thomas  gave  one  of  his  own 
boys  the  name  of  Abraham. 

4  Deed  Book  3,  Fayette  County,  149. 

5  Tax  Record,  1801,  Fayette  County  section  (Kentucky  Historical  Society),  lists 
"Six  blacks"  to  Thomas  Lincoln. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  17-26  361 

6  Thomas  Lincoln  had  eight  children:  Margaret,  Catherine,  Abraham,  George, 
John,  David,  Elizabeth,  and  Hannah. 

7  Depositions  of  Elias  Hitt,  Lincoln  v.  Pemberton's  admx.  (File  190,  Fayette 
Circuit  Court).  One  regular  customer  of  Lincoln's  stillhouse  has  been  left  on 
record.  On  the  back  of  the  Pemberton  note  is  the  following  notation  in  Lin- 
coln's handwriting:  "March  28  George  Webster— 2  quarts;  April  2  George  Web- 
ster—2  quarts;  April  3  George  Webster— 2  quarts  of  whiskey." 

8  Thomas  Lincoln  v.  William  Dawson  (File  49,  Fayette  Circuit  Court);  Thomas 
Lincoln  v.  John  Neivell  (File  145,  ibid.);  Thomas  Lincoln  v.  Jacob  Erwin  (File 
171,  ibid.). 

9  Lincoln  to  John  O'Nan  et  al.,  January  17,  1809,  Deed  Book  D,  Fayette  Coun- 
ty, 98. 

io  Elizabeth  Lincoln  to  Thomas  Lincoln,  ibid. 

11  Thomas  Lincoln  to  Margaret  O'Nan  et  al.,  January  17,  1809,  ibid.,  125. 

12  Thomas  Lincoln  to  Margaret  O'Nan  et  al.,  August  15,  1809,  ibid.,  255. 

13  Lincoln  v.  O'Nan  et  al,  March  31,  1810    (File  215,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

14  Waldo  Lincoln,  213,  says  of  Mrs.  Lincoln:  "She  is  said  to  have  been  of 
German  descent  and  to  have  possessed  a  beautiful  character." 

15  Deposition  of  Peter  Warfield,  December  13,  1810,  Lincoln  v.  O'Nan  et  al. 

16  Deposition  of  James  Fleming,  December  13,  1810,  ibid. 

17  Peter  Warfield  v.  Thomas  Lincoln,  December  14,  1810  (File  227,  Fayette 
Circuit  Court). 

18  Order  Book  H,  Fayette  Circuit  Court,  187. 

19  An  execution  issued  against  him  July  3,  1815,  was  returned  by  the  sheriff 
marked  "no  property  found." 

20  William  E.  Barton,  The  Lineage  of  Lincoln   (Indianapolis,  Bobbs,  1929),  266. 

21  "The  plaintiff  being  solemnly  called  and  failing  to  appear  and  prosecute 
this  suit  &  his  attorney  being  uninformed,  it  is  ordered  that  the  same  be  dis- 
missed."   Order  Book  1,  Fayette  Circuit  Court,  120. 

22  Warfield  to  Captain  Joseph  Faulconer,  June  7,  1811  (William  H.  Townsend 
Collection,  Lexington,  Ky.). 

23  Moore  to  Humphries,  January  21,  1820,  Moore  &  Hawkins  v.  Thomas  Lin- 
coln  (File  464,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

24  Order  Book  4,  Fayette  County,  504. 

25  See  Lincoln's  letter  to  John  Chrisman,  September  21,  1860,  in  which  he 
mentions,  as  he  occasionally  did  in  various  correspondence,  his  great-uncle 
Thomas.  "Thomas  removed  to  Kentucky  where  he  died  a  good  while  ago." 
Abraham  Lincoln  Association,  Collected  Works  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  ed.  by  Roy 
P.  Basler  (8  vols.,  New  Brunswick,  N.  J.,  Rutgers,  1953),  V,  117  (hereinafter 
referred  to  as  Works). 


CHAPTER  III 

1  Kentucky  Reporter,  July  29,  1809. 

2  Thomas  Marshall  Green,  Historic  Families  of  Kentucky  .  .  .  (Cincinnati, 
Clarke,  1889),  209-10. 

3  The  Court  of  Quarter  Sessions,  spring  of  1777,  at  Harrodsburg. 

4  Green,  212. 

5  Todd  was  present  at  the  first  recorded  meeting  of  trustees  of  Transylvania 
Seminary,  November  10,  1783.  Trustees  Book  I,  1.  On  October  7,  1807,  Henry 
Clay  was  elected  to  succeed  General  Todd,  deceased.    Ibid.,  328. 


362  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  26-36 

6  Green,  215. 

7  Certificate  from  President  James  Blythe,  April  6,  1807  (Townsend  Collection). 

8  Certificate  of  Thomas  Bodley,  February  6,  1811,  ibid. 

9  Certificate  of  George  M.  Bibb,  February  1,  1811,  and  law  license,  ibid. 

10  Deposition  of  Elizabeth  R.  Parker,  July  3,  1817,  Todd's  heirs  v.  Parker's 
heirs   (File  559,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

11  Kentucky  Gazette,  March  6,  1800. 

12  Will  of  Robert  Parker,  March  4,  1800,  Will  Book  A,  Fayette  County,  216. 

13  A  faded  sheaf  of  papers,  in  the  Townsend  Collection,  is  styled:  "Muster 
Roll  of  Captain  Robert  S.  Todd's  Company,  for  1811." 

14  Ranck,  History  of  Lexington,  247. 

15  The  date  of  the  marriage  of  Robert  S.  Todd  and  Eliza  Parker  has  been 
hitherto  unknown,  due  to  the  confusion  of  early  marriage  records  in  the  Fayette 
County  clerk's  office.  The  original  license  was  discovered  only  after  an  exhaus- 
tive search  by  the  late  Charles  R.  Staples  and  the  author. 

16  Kentucky  Reporter,  March  13,  1813. 

17  "Never  have  the  people  of  this  town  and  its  neighborhood  met  with  a 
stroke  so  afflicting  as  that  produced  by  the  late  battle  of  Raisin.  .  .  .  We  have 
all  lost  a  relation  or  friend."   Kentucky  Gazette,  February  23,  1813. 

18  Kentucky  Reporter,  March  20,  1813. 

19  Depositions  of  Jane  T.  Breck  and  John  McMurtry,  Todd's  heirs  v.  Todd's 
admx.   (File  1389,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 


CHAPTER  IV 

1  Data  furnished  by  Martha  B.  Cheek,  Lexington,  great-great-granddaughter  of 
Samuel  Offutt. 

2  Appraisal  of  Property  of  Samuel  Offutt,  April  19,  1831,  Will  Book  D,  Jessa- 
mine County,  311. 

3  Samuel  Offutt  v.  Benjamin  Ayers   (Box  60,  Fayette  County  Court). 

4  Samuel  Offutt  v.  John  D.  Young  (Box  290,  Fayette  Circuit  Court);  Samuel 
Offutt  v.  William  Dennison   (Box  93,  ibid.). 

5  Azra  Offutt,  "An  Inaugural  Thesis  on  Injuries  and  Diseases  of  the  Head," 
February  20,  1826  (Library  of  Transylvania  College,  Lexington,  Kentucky); 
statements  of  Mrs.  Cheek. 

6  Data  in  possession  of  Martha  B.  Cheek. 

7  Kentucky  Reporter,  February  10,  1827. 

8  Will  Book  D,  Jessamine  County,  30. 

9  Will  Book  I,  Jessamine  County,  191. 

10  Kentucky  Reporter,  August  5,  1829. 

11  Statement  of  John  Hanks,  Herndon-Weik  Mss.    (Library  of  Congress). 

12  Ibid. 

13  Thomas  P.  Reep,  Lincoln  at  New  Salem  (Chicago,  Old  Salem  Lincoln 
League,  1927),  98. 

14  Caleb  Carman  to  Herndon,  November  30,  1866,  Herndon-Weik  Mss. 

15  Ibid.;  Albert  J.  Beveridge,  Abraham  Lincoln,  1809-1858  (Ms.  ed.,  4  vols., 
Boston,  Houghton,  1928),  I,  6. 

16  Herndon's  Life  of  Lincoln  .  .  .,  ed.  by  Paul  M.  Angle  (Cleveland,  World, 
1949),  63. 

17  Ibid. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  37-50  363 

is  ibid.,  64. 

19  Kentucky  Reporter,  March  2,  1831. 

20  Benjamin  P.  Thomas,  Lincoln's  New  Salem  (New  ed.,  New  York,  Knopf, 
1954),  63. 

21  R.  B.  Rutledge  to  Herndon,  1866,  Herndon-Weik  Mss.;  William  H.  Towns- 
end,  Lincoln  and  Liquor   (New  York,  Pioneers,  1934),  25. 

22  Reep,  23. 

23  ibid.,  27;  Townsend,  26-27. 

24  William  H.  Herndon  and  Jesse  William  Weik,  Herndon's  Lincoln:  The 
True  Story  of  a  Great  Life   (3  vols.,  Chicago,  Belford,  Clarke,  1889),  I,  81. 

25  R.  B.  Rutledge  to  Herndon,  1866,  Herndon-Weik  Mss.;  Albert  J.  Beveridge, 
Abraham  Lincoln,  1809-1858   (2  vols.,  Boston,  Houghton,  1928),  I,  111. 

26  Reep,  27;  Carl  Sandburg,  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  Prairie  Years  (2  vols.,  New 
York,  Harcourt,  1926),  I,  137. 

27  T.  G.  Onstot,  Pioneers  of  Menard  and  Mason  Counties  .  .  .  (Forest  City,  111., 
Onstot,  1902),  73. 

28  Harvey  Lee  Ross,  Lincoln's  First  Years  in  Illinois  .  .  .,  ed.  by  Rufus  R. 
Wilson    (Elmira,  N.  Y.,  Primavera,  1946),  4. 

29  J.  R.  Herndon  to  Herndon,  1866,  Herndon-Weik  Mss. 

30  R.  B.  Rutledge  to  Herndon,  ibid. 

31  J.  R.  Herndon  to  Herndon,  May  28,  1865,  ibid.;  James  Herndon  to  Hern- 
don, ibid. 

32  Ellis  to  Herndon,  February,  1865,  ibid.;  Herndon's  Life  of  Lincoln  (Angle 
ed.),  97. 

33  Sandburg,  I,  174;  Thomas,  67. 

34  James  Short  to  Herndon,  July  7,  1865,  Herndon-Weik  Mss. 

35  Reep,  26. 

CHAPTER  V 

i  Kentucky  Gazette,  December  13,  1817. 

2  Todd's  clerical  experience,  fine  intellect,  and  genial  personality  peculiarly 
fitted  him  for  his  duties  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  which  he  performed 
with  great  fidelity  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

3  Order  Book  4,  Fayette  County,  426. 

4  Robert  Parker's  children  were:  Mary  Ann,  Eliza,  James  P.,  Robert  C,  John, 
and  Andrew.  See  Todd's  Heirs  v.  Parker's  Heirs  (File  559,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 
In  after  years  Mary  seldom  used  her  middle  name  except  when  signed  to  formal 
documents.  See  Elizabeth  L.  Todd  et  al.  to  Benjamin  F.  Edge,  June  18,  1856, 
Deed  Book  32,  Fayette  County,  409;  Todd's  Heirs  v.  Todd's  admx.  (File  1389, 
Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

5  Duff's  Scrap  Book  Collection  of  Obituaries   (Lexington  Public  Library). 

6  Ann  Maria  was  named  for  one  of  Robert  S.  Todd's  sisters.  Green,  Historic 
Families,  213. 

7  Kentucky  Reporter,  July  4,  July  11,  1825. 

8  Duff's  Scrap  Book  Collection  of  Obituaries. 

9  Todd  to  Humphreys,  February  15,  1826    (Townsend  Collection). 
io  Todd  to  Humphreys,  October  23,  1826,  ibid. 

ii  Todd  to  Humphreys,  October  25,  1826,  ibid. 

12  Kentucky  Gazette,  November  10,  1826. 

13  As  Todd's  last  letter  implied,  Crittenden's  marriage   was  also   impending, 


364  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  50-60 

and  two  weeks  later,  on  November  15,  1826,  he  married  Betsy  Humphrey's  inti- 
mate friend,  Mariah  K.  Todd,  also  of  Frankfort.  Mrs.  Chapman  Coleman,  The 
Life  of  John  J.  Crittenden    (2  vols.,  Philadelphia,  Lippincott,  1871),  I,  21. 

14  John  Ward,  etc.,  to  John  S.  Snead,  Trustee,  Deed  Book  10,  Fayette  County, 
446. 

15  Elizabeth  K.  Smith  and  Mary  L.  Didlake,  Historical  Sketch  of  Christ  Church 
Cathedral    (Lexington,  Transylvania,  1898),  28. 

16  Elizabeth  Humphreys  Norris  to  Emilie  Todd  Helm,  September  28,  1895 
(Townsend  Collection). 

17  Katherine  Helm,  The  True  Story  of  Mary,  Wife  of  Lincoln  .  .  .  (New 
York,  Harper,  1928),  31. 

18  Statements  of  Emilie  Todd  Helm  to  author. 

19  Frankfort    (Ky.)  Argus  of  Western  America,  October  28,  1829. 

20  Ibid.;  J.  Winston  Coleman,  Jr.,  Famous  Kentucky  Duels  .  .  .  (Frankfort, 
Ky.,  Roberts,  1953),  69-83. 

21  William  T.  Smith,  Com'r  to  R.  S.  Todd,  May  7,  1832,  Deed  Book  8,  Fayette 
County,  133. 

22  License  Index  I,  Fayette  County,  93.  N.  W.  Edwards  graduated  from  Tran- 
sylvania May  1,  1833.    Trustees  Book  I,  281. 

23  See  obituary  of  Mme.  Mentelle,  Lexington  Kentucky  Statesman,  September 
14,  1860. 

24  "The  subscriber,  encouraged  by  a  number  of  respectable  persons,  has  lately 
removed  to  Lexington.  He  proposes  with  the  assistance  of  his  wife  to  instruct 
young  people  of  both  sexes  in  the  French  Language  and  Dancing.  His  terms 
will  be  moderate  and  those  who  entrust  him  with  care  of  their  children  may 
rely  on  his  attention  and  assiduity.  He  will  commence  teaching  on  the  23rd  of 
this  month.    Waldemare  Mentelle."    Kentucky  Gazette,  July  25,  1798. 

25  After  Mrs.  Russell  married  Robert  Wickliffe,  she  and  her  husband  executed 
a  deed  to  the  Mentelles  for  this  tract  of  "about  five  acres  of  land  opposite  Mr. 
Clay's,"  reciting  that  it  had  been  given  to  them  "many  years  since  by  Parole  & 
without  writing."  Wickliffes  to  W.  Mentelle  &  C.  Mentelle,  July  5,  1839,  Deed 
Book  16,  Fayette  County,  484. 

26  All  biographers,  including  Albert  J.  Beveridge,  have  hitherto  assumed  that 
the  Mentelle  institution  was  exclusively  a  French  school,  some  stating  that  "only 
French  was  spoken  there,"  but  the  records  show  otherwise.  "Mrs.  Mentelle 
wants  a  few  more  Young  Ladies  as  Scholars.  She  has  hitherto  endeavored  to 
give  them  a  truly  useful  &  'Solid'  English  Education  in  all  its  branches.  French 
taught  if  desired.  Boarding,  Washing  &  Tuition  $120.00  per  year,  paid  quar- 
terly in  advance.  \]/2  miles  from  Lexington  on  the  Richmond  Turnpike  road." 
Lexington  Intelligencer,  March  6,  1838. 

27  Elizabeth  Humphreys  Norris  to  Emilie  Todd  Helm,  September  28,  1895 
(Townsend  Collection). 

28  Ibid. 

29  Todd  served  as  clerk  from  December  5,  1814,  to  December  28,  1835.  Ken- 
tucky House  of  Representatives,  Journal,  1835-1836. 

30  Todd  purchased  his  liquor  sometimes  by  the  quart,  but  usually  in  case  lots 
or  by  the  barrel.  See  Robert  S.  Todd's  account  with  Robert  Fleming,  Walker 
Kidd,  Dudley  &  Carty,  Swift  &  Robbins,  E.  A.  Tilford  &  Co.,  from  1827  to  1849. 
Also  Deposition  of  William  Leavy,  filed  in  the  settlement  of  the  Todd  estate 

(File  1389,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

31  C.  M.  Clay,  "John  Jordan  Crittenden,"  in  Lexington  Daily  Press,  November 
14,  1871. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  62-75  365 

32  Gustave  Koerner,  Memoirs  of  Gustave  Koerner,  1809-1S96  ...  (2  vols., 
Cedar  Rapids,  Iowa,  Torch,  1909),  I,  349. 

33  ibid.,  347. 

34  April  9,  1831;  James  Speed,  James  Speed,  a  Personality  (Louisville,  Morton, 
1914),  9. 

35  K.  Helm,  73. 

36  Elizabeth  Humphrey  Norris  to  Emilie  Todd  Helm,  September  28,  1895 
(Townsend  Collection). 

37  "Monsieur  Giron's  splendid  saloon  is  attended  by  the  wealthy  and  fashion- 
able citizens."  Julius  P.  Bolivar  MacCabe,  Directory  of  the  City  of  Lexington 
and  County  of  Fayette,  for  1838  &  '39  .  .  .    (Lexington,  Noble,  1838). 

38  William  Kavanaugh  Doty,  The  Confectionery  of  Monsier  Giron  (Charlottes- 
ville, Va.,  Michie,  1915). 

39  Statement  of  Dr.  A.  T.  Parker  to  the  author,  February  3,  1919. 

40  K.  Helm,  43-44. 

41  William  H.  Townsend,  Lincoln  the  Litigant    (Boston,  Houghton,  1925),  71. 

42  "Separate  answer  of  George  R.  C.  Todd,"  Todd's  Heirs  v.  Todd's  admx. 
(File  1389,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

43  Mary  Todd  Lincoln  to  Abraham  Lincoln,  May ,  '48  (Illinois  State  His- 
torical Society). 

44  Samuel  D.  McCullough  Ms.    (Lexington  Public  Library). 


CHAPTER  VI 

1  Lincoln  to  Samuel  D.  Marshall,  November  11,  1842,  Works,  I,  304-305. 

2  Henry  C.  Whitney,  Life  on  the  Circuit  with  Lincoln  .  .  .  (Boston,  Estes  and 
Lanriat,  1892),  94-97. 

3  Lincoln  to  Richard  S.  Thomas,  February  14,  1843,  Works,  I,  707. 

4  K.  Helm,  Mary,  Wife  of  Lincoln,  41;  Clay,  "John  Jordan  Crittenden,"  in 
Lexington  Daily  Press,  November  14,  1871. 

5  Works,  I,  74-76. 

6  Ibid.,  271-79. 

7  William  E.  Barton,  The  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln  (2  vols.,  Indianapolis, 
Bobbs,  1925),  I,  101. 

8  Order  Book  6,  p.  311,  Fayette  County  clerk's  office. 

9  Brown,  Western  Gazetteer,  91. 

10  These  occurrences  became  so  frequent  that  a  local  editor  strongly  voiced 
his  disapproval.  Lexington  Western  Luminary,  June  5,  1833;  Ivan  E.  McDougle, 
Slavery  in  Kentucky,  1792-1865    (Lancaster,  Pa.,  New  Era,  1918),  19. 

11  Elizabeth  Humphreys  Norris  to  Emilie  Todd  Helm,  September  28,  1895 
(Townsend  Collection). 

12  K.  Helm,  38-40. 

13  Ibid. 

14  Robert  S.  Todd  purchased  a  lot  adjoining  his  residence  from  Judge  Turner. 
Fielding  L.  Turner  and  Caroline  A.  Turner  to  Robert  S.  Todd,  Deed  Book  I, 
Fayette  County,  150. 

15  McDougle,  91. 

lQIbid.;  Commonwealth  of  Kentucky,  Plff.  v.  Caroline  A.  Turner,  Deft.  (File 
899),  Order  Book  20,  Fayette  Circuit  Court,  323. 

17  McDougle,  91-92. 

18  Mrs.  Samuel  Harrison  Smith,  The  First  Forty  Years  of  Washington  Society 


366  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  76-84 

.  .  .,  ed.  by  Gaillard  Hunt  (New  York,  Scribner,  1906),  128;  Leland  Winfield 
Meyer,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Colonel  Richard  M.  Johnson  of  Kentucky  (New 
York,  Columbia,  1932),  293. 

19  Letter  of  Thomas  Henderson,  in  Washington    (D.  C.)  Globe,  July  7,  1835. 

20  Reminiscences  of  Ebenezer  Stedman,  written  to  his  daughter,  Sophia  Cox 
(Kentucky  Historical  Society,  Frankfort). 

21  Danville  Kentucky  Tribune,  September  22,  1843;  Meyer,  422. 

22  Reprint  from  Louisville  Journal  in  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  July  8, 
1835. 

23  Richard  M.  Johnson  to  Rev.  Thomas  Henderson,  February  26,  1836,  John- 
son Mss.    (Filson  Club,  Louisville,  Kentucky). 

24  Kentucky  Reporter,  April  21  to  June  9,  1830. 

25  ibid.,  August  4,  1830. 

26  William  Birney,  James  G.  Birney  and  His  Times  .  .  .  (New  York,  Apple- 
ton,  1890),  132. 

27  Certificate  of  Thomas  B.  Megowan,  1840,  Fayette  Circuit  Court. 

28  Kentucky  General  Assembly,  Acts,  1832-1833,  chap.  223,  approved  February 
2,  1833. 

CHAPTER  VII 

i  "If  asked  for  what  I  consider  the  most  influential  and  potent  influence  that 
ever  came  into  Lincoln's  life  in  Illinois,  I  would  unhesitatingly  reply,  'news- 
papers.' "  Henry  B.  Rankin,  Intimate  Character  Sketches  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
(Philadelphia,  Lippincott,  1924),  155.  "If  Lincoln  may  be  said  to  have  done 
anything  whatever  continuously  during  these  years  ...  it  was  to  read  news- 
papers."   Beveridge,  Abraham  Lincoln,  I,  301. 

2  Lincoln  to  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  Todd,  March  23,  1861,  according  to  state- 
ments of  Dr.  Alexander  T.  Parker,  February  3,  1919,  and  Captain  J.  R.  Howard, 
May  1,  1922  (Townsend  Collection).  "She  [Mary]  and  Mr.  Lincoln  pored  over 
the  Lexington  paper,  for  which  they  had  subscribed  every  year  since  Mary's 
marriage."    K.  Helm,  Mary,  Wife  of  Lincoln,  160. 

3  "Upon  one  occasion,  he  spoke  most  enthusiastically  of  his  profound  admira- 
tion of  Henry  Clay,  saying  that  he  almost  worshipped  him."  Leonard  W.  Volk 
in  Henry  B.  Rankin,  Personal  Recollections  of  Abraham  Lincoln  (New  York, 
Putnam,  1916),  364. 

4  He  "allways  Loved  Hen  Clay's  Speaches  I  think  was  the  Cause  Mostly"  of 
Lincoln  being  a  Whig.  Dennis  Hanks  to  Herndon,  March  12,  1866,  Herndon- 
Weik  Mss. 

5  Works,  I,  297. 

6  Separate  answer  of  Abraham  Lincoln  in  Oldham  and  Hemingway  v.  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  et  ah,  June  13,  1853  (File  1268,  Fayette  Circuit  Court).  The  an- 
swer of  Elizabeth  L.  Todd,  admx.  of  Robert  S.  Todd  in  Todd's  Heirs  v.  Todd's 
admx.  (File  1389,  Fayette  Circuit  Court),  states  that  the  total  advancement  made 
by  Todd  to  the  Lincolns  during  his  lifetime  amounted  to  $1,157.50. 

7  These  slippers  were  for  many  years  in  the  Lincoln  Collection  of  Oliver  R. 
Barrett,  Chicago. 

8  John  C.  Breckinridge  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  December  24,  1843,  Breckin- 
ridge Mss.  (Library  of  Congress);  deposition  of  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  Todd's 
Heirs  v.  R.  Wickliffe  (File  1166,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

9  Cassius  M.  Clay,  The  Life  of  Cassius  Marcellus  Clay:   Memoirs,  Writings,  and 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  84-96  367 

Speeches  .  .  .    (Cincinnati,  Brennan,  1886),  82-85;  handbill,  "To  My  Fellow  Citi- 
zens of  Fayette,"  August  2,   1843    (Tovvnsend  Collection). 
io  Clay,  82-85. 

11  Order  Book  29,  Fayette  Circuit  Court,  263-64. 

12  "Henry  Clay,  Esquire,  produced  in  Court  a  License  and  on  his  motion  is 
permitted  to  practice  as  an  Attorney  at  Law,  in  this  Court,  and  thereupon  took 
the  several  oaths  by  Law  prescribed."  March  20,  1798,  Order  Book  A,  Fayette 
Circuit  Court,  94. 

13  Clay,  89. 

14  Commonwealth  of  Kentucky  v.  Cassius  M.  Clay  (File  1084,  Fayette  Circuit 
Court). 

15  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  January  1,  1840. 

16  Calvin  Fairbank,  Rev .  Calvin  Fairbank  during  Slavery  Times  .  .  .  (Chi- 
cago, Patriotic,  1890),  26-34.  Fairbank  was  for  many  years  connected  with  the 
Underground  Railroad  in  Kentucky.  In  the  purchase  of  Eliza  he  represented 
Salmon  P.  Chase,  later  Lincoln's  secretary  of  the  treasury,  and  Nicholas  Long- 
worth  of  Cincinnati,  who  had  authorized  him  to  bid  as  high  as  $25,000  if  neces- 
sary. Out  of  his  abolition  activities  of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century,  Fair- 
bank  states  that  the  auction  of  Eliza  was  "the  most  extraordinary  incident  in 
my  history." 

17  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  May  26,  1843,  and  later  issues.  The  editor 
of  the  Observer  had  long  been  opposed  to  the  sale  of  slaves  at  public  auction. 
He  contended  that  if  it  was  necessary  to  sell  Negroes  other  than  at  private  sale, 
this  should  be  done  in  the  yard  of  the  slave  jails.  The  sale  of  Eliza  was  vividly 
portrayed  as  an  illustration  of  the  evils  of  public  auctions.  Slaveholders  were 
warned  that  the  "public  auction-block  makes  many  converts  to  abolitionism" 
and  was  therefore  the  greatest  menace  to  the  institution  of  slavery. 

18  Ibid.,  May  15,  1844. 

19  Ibid.,  July  20,  1844. 

20  H.  Clay  to  Cassius  M.  Clay,  ibid.,  September  18,  1844. 

21  "The  whole  heart  of  the  man  was  enlisted  in  it."  John  G.  Nicolay  and  John 
Hay,  Abraham  Lincoln,  a  History  (10  vols.,  New  York,  Century,  1890),  I,  223. 
"Clay,  as  he  [Lincoln]  said  himself,  was  his  'beau-ideal  of  a  statesman'  and  he 
labored  earnestly  and  effectually  as  anyone  else  for  his  election."  Ward  H. 
Lamon,  The  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln  .  .  .    (Boston,  Osgood,  1872),  274. 

22  Lamon,  275. 

23  will  of  Fielding  L.  Turner,  Will  Book  P,  Fayette  County,  503. 

24  The  newspapers  spoke  of  Mrs.  Turner's  "reproving"  her  carriage  driver, 
"when  he  seized  and  strangled  her  before  she  could  be  rescued  from  his  mur- 
derous grasp."   Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  August  24,  1844,  and  later  issues. 

25  ibid.,  November  19,  1844. 

26  "There  is  scarcely  a  crime  in  the  whole  catalogue  of  offenses  to  the  laws  of 
man  and  God  of  which  he  has  not  been  accused  either  by  the  Locofoco  stump 
speakers  or  their  newspaper  organs.  He  is  denounced  by  them  as  a  Profane 
Swearer,  a  Gambler,  a  Sabbath  Breaker,  a  common  Drunkard,  Guilty  of  Perjury, 
a  Robber,  an  Adulterer  and  a  Murderer."   Ibid.,  September  7,  1844. 

27  "Christian  voters!  Mr.  Clay's  Moral  Character,"  Polk  campaign  pamphlet 
(J.  Winston  Coleman,  Jr.,  Collection,  Lexington,  Ky.). 

28  Ibid. 

29  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  June  15,  1844,  and  later  issues. 

30  "I  have  concluded  for  the  present  to  try  freedom,"  wrote  Lewis  to  his  mas- 


368  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  96-100 

ter  after  his  escape,  "&  how  it  will  seam  to  be  my  own  Master  &  Manage  my 
own  Matters  &  crack  my  own  Whip."  Lewis  to  Captain  Postlethwaite,  October 
27,  1844   (Townsend  Collection). 

31  Delia  A.  Webster,  Kentucky  Jurisprudence:  A  History  of  the  Trial  of  Miss 
Delia  A.  Webster  at  Lexington,  Kentucky,  Dec.  17-21,  1844  .  .  .  (Vergennes, 
Vt.,  Blaisdell,  1845).  Fairbank  and  Miss  Webster  were  indicted,  and  on  Decem- 
ber 17,  1844,  the  young  schoolteacher  was  convicted  and  sentenced  to  two  years 
in  the  penitentiary.  She  at  once  petitioned  the  governor  for  a  pardon,  which  the 
citizens  of  Lexington  vigorously  opposed.  "There  is  a  masculinity  of  character 
in  the  female  fanatic  of  the  North  that  will  induce  them  to  undertake  almost 
any  enterprise.  .  .  .  We  insist  upon  the  punishment  of  this  abductionist  in  pet- 
ticoats not  only  on  account  of  the  offense  she  has  committed,  but  because  of 
her  sex,  which  she  has  desecrated."  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  January 
11,  1845. 

Fairbank  pleaded  guilty  on  February  13,  1845,  and  was  sentenced  to  fifteen 
years'  imprisonment.  Ibid.,  February  15,  1845.  He  was  pardoned  by  Governor 
Crittenden  in  1849,  but  arrested  again  in  1851  for  "stealing"  slaves  at  Louisville 
and  sent  to  the  penitentiary  to  serve  another  term  of  fifteen  years,  where  he  re- 
mained until  1862.  Fairbank  served,  in  all,  seventeen  years  and  four  months' 
imprisonment  for  his  abolition  activities  in  Kentucky.    Fairbank,  45-59,  97-103. 

32  Townsend  Collection.  The  bitterness  of  the  campaign  is  indicated  by  the 
celebration  of  Clay's  defeat  in  his  own  home  town:  "On  Saturday  last  some  of 
the  Locofocos  of  Lexington  had  a  great  jubilation:  They  commenced  firing  can- 
non, in  commemoration  of  the  defeat  of  their  great  fellow-citizen  before  Sunrise 
in  the  morning  and  kept  it  up  with  a  few  intermissions  until  after  dark  in  the 
evening.  Thinking,  we  suppose,  that  the  report  of  their  gun  would  not  sound 
sufficiently  distinct  at  Ashland  from  the  usual  place  of  firing,  they  selected  in 
the  afternoon  a  private  vacant  lot,  belonging  to  a  brother  loco  of  great  prox- 
imity, from  whence  they  demonstrated  their  puerile  spite  until  fatigue  or  some- 
thing else  more  powerful  overcame  them  and  bade  them  desist."  Lexington 
Observer  &  Reporter,  November  20,  1844. 

33  "The  defeat  of  Clay  affected  him  ...  as  a  keen  personal  sorrow."  Nicolay 
and  Hay,  I,  235. 

34  "For  himself  he  had  the  dawning  ambition  of  the  success  of  the  man  and 
the  policy  that  would  settle  the  unadjusted  and,  at  that  time,  unadjustable 
slavery  question  on  the  lines  of  a  gradual  extinction  of  the  evil,  as  foreshadowed 
in  one  of  Clay's  explanatory  letters,  which  in  Lincoln's  opinion,  cost  him  the 
election."  Robert  H.  Browne,  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Men  of  His  Time  (2 
vols.,  Cincinnati,  Jennings  &  Pye,  1901),  I,  285. 

35  "The  campaign  had  the  effect  of  establishing  Mr.  Lincoln's  reputation  as 
a  political  orator,  on  a  still  broader  and  more  permanent  foundation.  From 
this  time  forward  he  was  widely  known  as  one  of  the  soundest  and  most  effective 
of  Whig  champions  in  the  West."  Joseph  H.  Barrett,  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
(Cincinnati,  Moore,  Wilstach  &  Baldwin,  1864),  69. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

1  Article  on  Clay  by  Colonel  W.  C.  P.  Breckinridge,  in  Lexington  Herald,  July 
24,  1903. 

2  C.  M.  Clay  in  Allen  Thorndike  Rice    (ed.),  Reminiscences  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln by  Distinguished  Men  of  His  Time  (New  York,  North  American,  1886),  293. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  100-21  369 

3  Ibid.,  297. 

4  Card  from  C.  M.  Clay,  in  Lexington  Observer  &■  Reporter,  May  28,  1845. 

5  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  February  19,  1845. 

6  Clay,  Life,  106-107. 

7  Springfield    (111.)  Sangamo  journal,  March  13,  20,  April  10,  17,  1845. 

8  Lexington  True  American,  June  3,  August  19,  1845. 

9  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  July  19,  1845. 

10  W.  L.  Barre  (ed.),  Speeches  and  Writings  of  Hon.  Thomas  F.  Marshall  (Cin- 
cinnati, Applegate,  1858),  127-32. 

11  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  July  12,  1845. 

12  Ibid. 

is  ibid.,  July  30,  1845. 

14  Handbill,  dated  August  2,  1845,  signed  "R.  Wickliffe"  (Townsend  Collec- 
tion). 

15  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  August  9,  1845. 

16  True  American,  June  17,  1845,  and  later  issues. 

17  The  issue  of  July  29  announced  the  serious  illness  of  the  editor.  "Any  de- 
fect noticeable  in  the  paper  during  his  illness  will,  therefore,  be  attributed  to 
the  proper  cause." 

18  Sangamo  Journal,  August  28,  1845. 

19  For  full  account  on  both  sides  see  B.  W.  Dudley  and  others,  History  and 
Record  of  the  Proceedings  of  the  People  of  Lexington  and  Its  Vicinity,  in  the 
Suppression  of  The  True  American  .  .  .  (Lexington,  Virden,  1845);  Cassius  M. 
Clay,  Appeal  of  Cassius  M.  Clay  to  Kentucky  and  the  World  (Boston,  Macomber 
&  Pratt,  1845).    See  also  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  August  12,  1845. 

20  Lexington  Observer  6-  Reporter,  August  20,  1845. 

21  Sangamo  Journal,  September  11,  1845. 

22  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  August  23,  1845. 

23  Ibid.,  August  20,  1845.  The  more  prominent  members  of  the  committee  of 
sixty  went  through  the  form  of  a  trial  in  Judge  Trotter's  court  on  September 
18,  1845,  where  "after  full  argument,  the  jury,  without  hesitating,  gave  a  verdict 
of  not  guilty."    Ibid.,  October  8,  1845. 

24  ibid.,  August  30,  1845. 

25  Letter  written  "Home"  by  Seward,  April  26  (1846),  in  Frederick  M.  Seward 
(ed.),  William  H.  Seward:    An  Autobiography  ...    (3  vols.,  New  York,  Derby 

and  Miller,  1891),  I,  798;  Seward  to  Thurlow  Weed,  April  26,  1846,  Weed  Papers 
(University  of  Rochester). 

26  Lincoln  to  Williamson  Durley,  October  3,  1845,  Works,  I,  175. 


CHAPTER  IX 

i  "They  are  not  demons,  nor  even  the  worst  of  men;  .  .  .  generally  they  are 
kind,  generous  and  charitable,  even  beyond  the  example  of  their  more  staid 
neighbors."    February  22,  1842,  Works,  I,  271-79. 

2  Barton,  Abraham  Lincoln,  I,  277. 

3  During  the  campaign  certain  Whig  friends  raised  $200  and  gave  it  to  Lin- 
coln for  his  personal  expenses.  After  the  election  he  handed  them  back  $199.25. 
"I  did  not  need  so  much  money,"  he  explained.  "I  made  the  canvass  on  my 
own  horse;  my  entertainment,  being  at  the  houses  of  friends,  cost  me  nothing; 
and  my  only  outlay  was  seventy-five  cents  for  a  barrel  of  cider  that  some  farm 
hands  insisted  I  should  treat  to."    Sandburg,  Abraham  Lincoln,  I,  344. 


370  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  121-38 

4  Works,  I,  382. 

5  Lincoln  to  Speed,  October  22,  1846,  ibid.,  389. 

6  Lincoln  to  Johnston,  February  25,  1847,  ibid.,  392. 

7  "I  start  for  Washington  by  way  of  Kentucky,  on  next  Monday."  Lincoln  to 
Morris  and  Brown,  October  18,  1847,  ibid.,  406. 

8  Beveridge,  Abraham  Lincoln,  I,  398. 

9  Townsend,  Lincoln  the  Litigant,  34. 

10  K.  Helm,  Mary,  Wife  of  Lincoln,  101 

11  Ibid.,  100. 

12  "My  wife  was  born  and  raised  at  Lexington,  Kentucky,  and  my  connection 
with  her  has  sometimes  taken  me  there,  where  I  have  heard  the  older  people 
of  her  relations  speak  of  your  Uncle  Thomas  and  his  family."  Lincoln  to  Jesse 
Lincoln,  April  1,  1852,  Works,  II,  217-18. 

13  "Many  of  the  private  dwellings  have  a  noble,  mansionlike  appearance 
which  is  greatly  heightened  by  their  deep  court-yards  and  spacious  gardens." 
The  Reverend  Dr.  Humphrey  in  North  American  Review  (Boston,  1815-1940), 
reprinted  in  Lexington  Intelligencer,  June  28,  1839. 

14  Commonwealth  of  Kentucky  v.  Cassilly,  a  slave  (File  1164,  Fayette  Circuit 
Court);  Commonwealth  of  Kentucky  v.  Harriet,  ibid. 

15  Letter  of  Elizabeth  Humphreys  Norris  to  Emilie  Todd  Helm,  July  18,  1895 
(Townsend  Collection);  statements  of  E.  T.  Helm  to  author. 

16  Order  Book  12,  Fayette  County,  61. 

17  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  November  3,  1847,  and  later  issues. 

18  Ibid.,  November  20,  1847,  and  later  issues. 

19  Theodore  D.  Weld  (comp.),  American  Slavery  As  It  Is  .  .  .  (New  York, 
American  Anti-Slavery  Society,  1839),  38,  133. 

20  Southern  Cultivator  (Athens,  Ga.,  1843-1935),  May,  1855,  quoted  in  J. 
Winston  Coleman,  Jr.,  Slavery  Times  in  Kentucky  (Chapel  Hill,  North  Carolina, 
1940),  188. 

21  Alexander  T.  Parker  to  the  author,  February  3,  1919.  The  institution  of 
court  day  was  only  recently  abandoned  in  Lexington. 

22  William  A.  Leavy  and  Robert  S.  Todd  v.  John  F.  Leavy  (File  1174,  Fayette 
Circuit  Court).  Judgment  was  rendered  by  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court  October 
12,  1847.  Todd  evidently  wanted  to  maintain  his  record  of  never  having  sold  a 
slave,  and  he  arranged  with  his  coplaintiff  to  pay  him  his  half  of  the  judgment 
in  cash  and  Leavy  was  to  take  the  slaves.  However,  after  the  commissioner  had 
reported  the  slaves  sold  to  the  coplaintiff,  Leavy  failed  to  pay  the  purchase 
price  and  they  were  sold  at  auction. 

23  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  November  17,  1847. 

24  Daniel  Webster  had  spoken  at  Springfield,  June  19,  1837.  Sangamo  Journal, 
June  24,  1837. 

25  K.  Helm,  101. 

26  Most  of  these  volumes  are  now  in  the  Townsend  Collection.  See  also  orig- 
inal inventory  and  sale  bills  of  Robert  S.  Todd's  estate,  Will  Book  S,  Fayette 
County,  420,  451. 

27  These  quotations  were  copied  by  the  author,  March  31,  1928,  from  the  orig- 
inal volume  marked  by  Lincoln. 

28  Republican  Club  of  the  City  of  New  York,  Addresses  Delivered  at  the  Lin- 
coln Dinners,  1887-1909  .  .  .  (New  York,  Republican  Club,  1909),  267;  statement 
of  George  Blackburn  Kinkead,  nephew  and  namesake  of  Lincoln's  local  attorney, 
to  author. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  138-54  371 

29  Kinkead's  statement. 

30  "We  state  facts— we  feel,  but  have  no  language  to  express  our  feelings." 
Card  signed  by  A.  C.  Bryan  et  al.,  in  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  October 
23,  1847. 

31  Todd  was  chairman  of  the  meeting  held  on  December  6,  1847,  to  complete 
preparations  for  Clay's  reception.  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  December  8, 
1847.  "Robert  S.  Todd,  my  old  and  faithful  friend,  the  father  of  Mrs.  Abraham 
Lincoln,  was  the  one  selected  to  give  the  address  of  welcome."    Clay,  Life,  164. 


CHAPTER  X 

1  Allen  C.  Clark,  Abraham  Lincoln  in  the  National  Capital  (Washington, 
D.  C,  Roberts,  1925),  3. 

2  Lincoln  to  Herndon,  December  13,  1847,  Works,  I,  420. 

3  Works,  I,  420-22. 

4  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  January  26,  1848. 

5  Works,  I,  465-66. 

6  Nat  Grigsby  said  that  the  night  he  and  Lincoln  slept  together  at  Gentryville 
in  1844  a  cat  "began  mewing,  scratching,  and  making  a  fuss  generally";  that 
Lincoln  "got  up,  took  the  cat  in  his  hands,"  and  stroking  its  back,  "gently  and 
kindly,  made  it  sparkle."    Lamon,  Abraham  Lincoln,  275. 

7  Illinois  State  Historical  Library. 

8  Works,  I,  473-74. 

9  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  April  19,  1848. 

io  Lincoln  to  Mrs.  Lincoln,  April  16,  1848,  Works,  I,  465-66. 

11  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  April  5,  1848. 

12  Works,  I,  495-96. 

13  Lincoln  to  Herndon,  June  22,  1848,  ibid.,  490-92. 

14  Works,  I,  497. 

15  The  only  recorded  instance  of  Lincoln's  indulgence  in  this  diversion  was  in 
1863,  when  thirty  ladies,  headed  by  the  Princess  Salm-Salm  of  Prussia,  kissed 
him  at  a  reception  given  to  the  President  on  his  visit  to  the  Third  Army  Corps. 
Mrs.  Lincoln  was  in  camp,  but  not  present  at  the  reception,  and  that  night, 
when  little  Tad  told  her  about  it,  General  Sickles  says  she  "gave  the  President 
a  long  curtain  lecture"  in  their  tent.  General  Daniel  E.  Sickles,  February  12, 
1910,  at  annual  meeting  of  the  Lincoln  Fellowship. 

16  Lincoln  to  Herndon,  July  11,  1848,  Works,  I,  499. 

17  Samuel  C.  Busey,  Personal  Reminiscences  and  Recollections  .  .  .  (Wash- 
ington, D.C.,  Dornan,  1895),  26-27. 

18  Springfield  Illinois  Journal,  March  16,  1848. 

19  Deposition  of  Dr.  Henry  Hopson,  September  27,  1843,  Samuel  Cook  v. 
Parker  Ottwell,  Admr.  (Box  1047,  Fayette  Circuit  Court);  Parker  Ottwell,  Admr., 
v.  Samuel  R.  Offutt   (Box  1084,  ibid.). 

20  James  Cummins,  et  al.,  v.  Samuel  R.  Offutt  (Box  1205,  Bourbon  Circuit 
Court). 

21  Denton  Offutt,  A  New  and  Complete  System  of  Teaching  the  Horse  on 
Phrenological  Principles  .  .  .    (Cincinnati,  Appleton's  Queen  City  Press,   1848). 

22  James  Hall  to  William  H.  Herndon,  Baltimore,  September  17,  1873,  Hern- 
don-Weik  Mss. 

23  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  August  9,  1848. 


372  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  154-71 

24  Doyle  was  given  twenty  years  in  the  penitentiary  on  one  indictment.  Three 
other  charges  were  filed  away  to  he  reinstated  at  the  end  of  his  sentence.  Three 
slaves,  Shadrach,  Harry,  and  Presley,  were  sentenced  to  death.  Ibid.,  September 
6,  October  11,  1848. 

25  Diary  of  William  Moody  Pratt,  entry  for  August  24,  1848  (University  of 
Kentucky  Library,  Lexington). 

26  "What  further  part  he  took  in  the  campaign  in  Illinois  does  not  appear," 
says  Beveridge  (Abraham  Lincoln,  I,  477),  who  evidently  overlooked  Lincoln's 
speaking  schedule  published  in  the  Illinois  Daily  Journal,  October  27,  1848. 

27  Robert  S.  Todd  to  A.  Lincoln,  February  20,  1849  (Robert  Todd  Lincoln 
Collection,  Library  of  Congress). 


CHAPTER  XI 

1  Whitney,  Life  on  the  Circuit,  340. 

2  Kentucky  House  of  Representatives,  Journal,  February  3,  1849. 

3  Kentucky  General  Assembly,  Session  Acts,  1848-1849,  p.  393. 

4  Kentucky  General  Assembly,  Senate  Journal,  1848-1849,  p.  363. 

5  Herndon,  Lincoln,  II,  240. 

6  Albert  T.  Bledsoe,  son  of  Moses  Owsley  Bledsoe  of  Frankfort,  Kentucky,  and 
a  graduate  of  West  Point,  had  taught  Lincoln  broadsword  exercises,  and  was 
one  of  his  seconds.  Beveridge,  Abraham  Lincoln,  I,  349;  Herndon,  II,  256.  Bled- 
soe was  assistant  secretary  of  war  under  Jefferson  Davis.  After  the  war  he  wrote 
a  book  entitled:  75  Davis  a  Traitor?  which  the  president  of  the  Confederacy 
"considered  one  of  the  best  books  justifying  our  course  in  seceding."  Inscription 
of  Mrs.  Davis  in  her  husband's  copy  of  Bledsoe's  book  now  in  the  Townsend 
Collection. 

7  Herndon,  II,  248. 

%  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  February  17,  1849. 

9  Ibid.,  March  3,  1849;  Cincinnati  Examiner,  March  10,  1849;  Cincinnati 
Chronicle,  March  6,  1849. 

10  Asa  Earl  Martin,  The  Anti-Slavery  Movement  in  Kentucky  prior  to  1850 
(Louisville,  Filson  Club,  1918),  127,  128. 

11  Calvin  Colton  (ed.),  The  Private  Correspondence  of  Henry  Clay  (Cincin- 
nati, Derby,  1856),  585. 

12  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  April  18,  June  30,  1849. 

13  Ibid.,  April  28,  1849. 

14  Ibid.,  April  25,  1849. 

15  Statement  of  Desha  Breckinridge  to  the  author. 

16  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  July  18,  1849. 

17  Martin,  124;  Green  Clay  to  the  author,  March  17,  1928. 

18  Louisville  Weekly  Courier,  July  4,  1849. 

19  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  June  13,  1849. 

20  Statement  of  Emilie  Todd  Helm  to  the  author,  June  15,  1927. 

21  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  June  16,  July  18,  1849. 

22  Louisville  Weekly  Courier,  July  4,  1849. 

23  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  June  16,  July  7,  18,  1849. 

24  "A  dispatch  from  Lexington  dated  the  19th,  says  that  Cassius  M.  Clay  is 
not  dead— that  there  are  hopes  of  his  recovery."  Illinois  Daily  Journal,  June  22, 
1849.  The  citizens  of  Springfield  were  much  interested  in  the  affair.  Ibid.,  Jun# 
19-27,  1849. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  171-83  373 

25  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  June  20,  1849. 

26  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  June  26,  1849. 

27  Lexington  Morning  Transcript,  August  28,  1892,  for  reminiscences  of  old 
citizens  who  survived  this  epidemic. 

28  Breckinridge  to  Richard  Martin,  July  14,  1849,  Breckinridge  Mss. 

29  The  Lexington  newspapers  gave  "bilious  fever"  as  the  cause  of  Todd's 
death;  the  Illinois  Daily  Journal,  July  23,  1849,  said  that  he  died  of  "brain 
fever."  However,  the  original  itemized  bills  of  C.  C.  Norton  and  other  drug- 
gists, filed  with  the  papers  in  the  settlement  of  his  estate,  show  that  the  medi- 
cine given  to  Todd  by  his  physicians  consisted  largely  of  calomel,  rhubarb,  and 
opium— the  standard  cholera  remedy. 

30  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  August  4,  1849.  Describing  Lexington  on 
"fast  day,"  the  Observer  said,  "The  city,  it  is  true,  presented  no  great  difference 
in  aspect  from  that  which  it  has  worn  for  several  weeks,  owing  to  the  fatal  epi- 
demic which  has  been  among  us,  producing  an  almost  entire  stagnation  of  busi- 
ness or  even  the  appearance  of  it." 

31  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  August  3,  1849. 

32  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  August  1,  1849. 
S3  Ibid.,  August  11,  1849. 

34  Lincoln  to  George  Robertson,  August  15,  1855,  Works,  II,  317-18. 


CHAPTER  XII 

1  Reminiscences  of  old  survivors,  in  Lexington  Morning  Transcript,  August 
28,  1892. 

2  See  original  will,  Papers  File  1849-51,  Fayette  County  Court. 

3  Order  Book  12,  Fayette  County  Court,  398. 

4  Richard  H.  Chinn,  Trustee,  to  Robert  Wickliffe,  September  12,  1827,  Deed 
Book  33,  Fayette  County,  86. 

5  Lincoln  to  Margaret  Preston,  August  21,  1862,  Works,  VIII,  386. 

6  Lincoln  to  Mary  Lincoln,  April  16,  1848,  ibid.,  I,  465-66. 

7  "Mr.  Lincoln  returned  to  this  city  on  Thursday  evening  last,  from  a  journey 
of  business  to  Kentucky,  which  occupied  his  time  for  some  three  or  four  weeks." 
Illinois  Weekly  Journal,  November  21,  1849. 

8  "A  young  man  of  the  most  amiable  manners  and  promising  talents."  Ken- 
tucky Reporter,  October  14,  1822. 

9  It  is  evident  that  the  story  of  Milly  and  Alfred  was  quite  generally  known 
and  discussed  now  and  then  among  the  older  citizens  of  Lexington.  "Dr.  E. 
Warfield  says  he  regrets  you  bringing  up  the  yellow  boy  on  account  of  Mrs. 
Wickliffe.  He  is  the  only  man  I  have  heard  speak  one  word  against  any  part  of 
it,  he  approved  all  the  rest.  You  know  the  Dr.  would  not  seem  wise  unless  he 
could  make  some  little  criticism."  David  Castleman  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge, 
February  24,  1843,  Breckinridge  Mss. 

10  The  story  of  Milly  and  Alfred  is  contained  in  the  voluminous  pleadings 
and  depositions  of  the  record,  styled:  Todd's  heirs  v.  Robert  Wickliffe  (File 
1166,  Fayette  Circuit  Court);  amplified  in  a  pamphlet  entitled:  The  Third  De- 
fence of  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  against  the  Calumnies  of  Robert  Wickliffe  (Bal- 
timore, Matchett,  1843),  76-77;  and  a  pamphlet  entitled:  A  Further  Reply  of 
Robert  Wickliffe,  to  the  Billingsgate  Abuse  of  Robert  Judas  Breckinridge,  Other- 
wise Called  Robert  Jefferson  Breckinridge  (Lexington,  Kentucky  Gazette  printer, 
1843),  52-56. 


374  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  184-88 

11  Printed  copies  of  these  testimonials  of  Clay,  Dr.  Dudley,  and  others  in  the 
Robert  Todd  Lincoln  Collection. 

12  Statement  of  Dr.  A.  T.  Parker  to  the  author,  February  3,  1919. 

13  Lincoln  to  W.  B.  Preston,  November  5,  1849,  Works,  II,  66. 

14  Deposition  of  William  H.  Rainey,  Todd's  Heirs  v.  Todd's  admx.  (File  1389, 
Fayette  Circuit  Court).  Levi  Todd  had  occupied  this  property  for  several  years 
under  lease  from  his  father.  Later  the  Lincolns  and  the  other  Springfield  heirs 
conveyed  to  him  their  undivided  four-sixth  interest  by  deed  dated  June  29,  1851, 
Deed  Book  27,  Fayette  County,  311. 

15  Lincoln  said  that  while  he  was  in  Lexington  "in  the  autumn  of  1849,"  he 
"was  almost  continuously  with  L.  O.  Todd."  Lincoln  to  George  B.  Kinkead, 
July  6,  1853    (Townsend  Collection). 

16  Lincoln's  sympathy  extended  to  all  forms  of  human  oppression.  Just  before 
coming  to  Kentucky  he  had  drafted  a  series  of  resolutions  for  the  cause  of  Hun- 
garian freedom.    Works,  II,  62. 

17  This  jail  faced  on  Broadway  and  ran  back  to  Mechanics  Alley  about  one 
hundred  feet  from  the  side  yard  of  the  Todd  residence.  Deed  from  E.  K.  Sayre, 
etc.,  to  W.  A.  Pullum,  October  12,  1846,  Deed  Book  24,  Fayette  County,  271. 

18  Robards  first  leased  the  theater  property  in  the  spring  of  1849,  and  then 
in  a  few  months  he  purchased  it.  In  1856  he  failed  in  business  and  it  was  sold 
by  Sheriff  Waller  Rodes,  Lincoln's  cousin  by  marriage,  to  satisfy  Robards'  cred- 
itors. "All  that  lot  of  land  known  as  Robards'  jail  situated  on  Short  Street  .  .  . 
on  which  the  negro  jail  now  stands."  Waller  Rodes,  sheriff,  to  Dickens  &  Co., 
April  2,  1856,  Deed  Book  32,  Fayette  County,  328.  The  Wesleyan  Methodist 
Church  now  occupies  this  site. 

19  Diary  of  Orville  Hickman  Browning,  entry  for  Thursday,  May  11,  1854  (Illi- 
nois State  Historical  Library,  Springfield). 

20  Robards,  according  to  the  records  in  the  Fayette  Circuit  Court,  was  in  con- 
tinual litigation  over  the  condition  of  his  slaves.  Many  suits  were  brought  by 
buyers  who  alleged  that  slaves  which  they  had  purchased  from  him  under  a 
"warranty  of  soundness"  were  in  fact  diseased.  Robards  would  deny  the  charge 
and  present  evidence  of  the  most  minute  physical  examination  which  the  buyer 
had  made  himself  at  the  time  of  purchase.  A  typical  case  was  Griffin  &  Pullum 
v.  Lewis  C.  Robards  (File  1291,  Fayette  Circuit  Court).  Plaintiffs  had  purchased 
Delphia,  a  mulatto  girl  eighteen  years  old.  On  her  way  with  a  drove  of  some 
eighty  slaves  to  New  Orleans,  she  had  died  at  Natchez,  Mississippi,  with  "nigger 
consumption."  Suit  was  brought  against  Robards  who  had  warranted  her  "sound 
in  limb  and  body  and  a  slave  for  life,"  and  Robards  introduced  several  witnesses 
to  testify  as  to  the  rigid  personal  inspection  to  which  she  had  been  subjected 
before  leaving  his  jail  in  Lexington.  Her  "small  hands,  tapering  fingers  and  the 
beautiful  proportions  of  her  body"  had  been  "commented  upon  by  those  pres- 
ent." 

21  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  October  20,  1849,  and  later  issues. 

22  Martha  v.  Lewis  C.  Robards   (File  1285,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

23  Deposition  of  John  T.  Widdington,  ibid. 

24  Henrietta  Wood,  by  etc.  v.  Lewis  Robards    (File  1271,  ibid.). 

25  Will  Book  S,  Fayette  County,  270-425.  Those  victims  of  the  cholera  who 
were  able  to  make  wills  before  they  died  frequently  provided  liberally  for  the 
protection  and  welfare  of  their  slaves.  Polly  L.  Ficklin  emancipated  all  her 
Negroes  and  gave  them  the  village  of  Kirkville  where  they  lived,  to  be  held  in 
common  for  the  benefit  of  all,  "particularly  those  who  from  age,  infirmity  or 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  188-203  375 

infancy  are  unable  to  support  themselves."  Ibid.,  272.  George  Harp  directed 
that  his  slaves  "shall  have  the  liberty  of  selecting  the  persons  whom  they  will 
serve."  Ibid.,  268. 

26  Browning  Diary,  entry  for  Monday,  May  8,  1854. 

27  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  October  24,  1849. 

28  The  new  constitution  was  published  in  full  ibid.,  December  29,  1849. 

29  Louisville  Courier,  November  12,  1849. 

30  The  lower  court  decided  against  Todd's  heirs,  and  its  opinion  was  affirmed 
by  the  Court  of  Appeals.    Todd's  Heirs  v.  Wickliffe,  51  Ky.  Reports,  289. 

31  Herndon,  Lincoln,  II,  362. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

1  Will  Book  S,  Fayette  County,  576.  The  will  was  probated  on  February  12, 
1850.   The  slaves  were  emancipated  at  the  May  term  of  court,  1850.   Order  Book 

12,  Fayette  County,  512. 

2  Illinois  Daily  Journal,  February  2,  1850. 

3  Lincoln  to  John  D.  Johnston,  February  23,  1850,  Works,  II,  76-77. 

4  William  E.  Barton,  The  Soul  of  Abraham  Lincoln  (New  York,  Doran,  1920), 
50. 

5  The  volume  of  The  Christian's  Defense  that  Lincoln  read  was  for  many 
years  in  the  possession  of  Emilie  Todd  Helm. 

6  Barton,  Soul  of  Lincoln,  156. 

7  George  R.  C.  Todd,  Complainant  v.  Elizabeth  L.  Todd,  Abraham  Lincoln 
et  al.,  Defendants    (File  1389,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

8  John  Parker  v.  Robert  Parker's  Heirs   (File  1242,  ibid.). 

9  Barton,  Soul  of  Lincoln,  162,  270.  Lincoln  appointed  Dr.  Smith  consul  at 
Dundee,  Scotland,  which  position  he  held  until  his  death  in  1871. 

io  "His  mind  was  in  Washington  rather  than  in  Springfield.  .  .  .  The  words 
and  deeds  of  those  who  engaged  in  the  historic  discussion  of  1850  were  to  be 
woven  into  the  strange  and  variegated  fabric  of  Lincoln's  destiny."  Beveridge, 
Abraham  Lincoln,  II,  72. 

11  "Lincoln  read  and  pondered  every  word  uttered  by  Clay,  Calhoun  and 
Webster  during  the  momentous  session."    Ibid. 

12  Congressional  Globe,  31  Cong.,  1  Sess.,  Appendix,  1414. 

13  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  July  27,  1850. 

14  Cong.  Globe,  31  Cong.,  1  Sess.,  Appendix,  1486-91. 

15  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  July  27,  1850. 

16  Lincoln  to  Joshua  Speed,  February  20,  1849,  Works,  II,  28-29. 

17  Whitney,  Life  on  the  Circuit;  Jesse  W.  Weik,  The  Real  Lincoln:  A  Portrait 
(Boston,  Houghton,  1922),  188-206. 

18  Springfield  Daily  Journal,  June  29,  1852. 

19  "Argued  case  agt.  Williamson.  The  evidence  was  very  strong,  almost  con- 
clusive. ...  At  the  persuasion  of  Lincoln  I  addressed  the  jury  for  something 
over  two  hours.  ...  I  believe  him  to  be  guilty,  but  wish  him  acquitted.  .  .  . 
I  am  sorry  for  the  poor  devil."    Diary  of  Orville  H.  Browning,  entry  for  July 

13,  1852.    The  jury  found  the  defendant  guilty. 

20  Underwood,  Clay's  colleague  from  Kentucky,  informed  the  Senate  that  on 
the  Sunday  morning  before  he  died,  Clay  said  to  him:  "There  may  be  some 
question  as   to  where  my  remains  shall  be  put;   some  persons  may  designate 


376  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  203-25 

Frankfort,  Kentucky.  I  wish  to  repose  in  the  cemetery  in  Lexington  where  many 
of  my  friends  and  connections  are  buried."  Springfield  Daily  journal,  July  9, 
1852. 

21  Ibid. 

22  Works,  II,  121-32.  Lincoln's  address  was  published  serially  in  the  Springfield 
Daily  Journal,  July  14-17,  1852. 

23  See  affidavits  of  William  S.  McChesney,  Mrs.  E.  L.  Todd,  George  R.  C. 
Todd,  and  Thomas  S.  Redd,  George  R.  C.  Todd  v.  Elizabeth  L.  Todd  et  al.  (File 
1389,  Fayette  Circuit  Court);  also  Order  Book  36,  Fayette  Circuit  Court,  539,  548. 

24  Oldham  &  Hemingway  v.  Abraham  Lincoln  et  al.  (File  1268,  Fayette  Circuit 
Court). 

25  Lincoln  to  George  B.  Kinkead,  May  27,  1853    (Townsend  Collection). 

26  Answer  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  filed  June  13,  1853,  Oldham  &  Hemingway  v. 
Abraham  Lincoln  et  al.   (File  1268,  Fayette  Circuit  Court). 

27  Lincoln  to  George  B.  Kinkead,  July  6,  1853    (Townsend  Collection). 

28  This  suit  was  filed  by  Lincoln  and  Edwards  against  Levi  Todd  and  Louise 
Todd,  his  wife,  March  24,  1853  (File  1226,  Fayette  Circuit  Court),  but  was  dis- 
missed June  15,  1853.  The  record,  however,  is  missing,  and  the  nature  of  the 
action  cannot  now  be  ascertained. 

29  Lincoln  to  George  B.  Kinkead,  September  13,  1853,  Works,  II,  203-204. 

30  This  suit  against  Lincoln  was  discovered  by  the  author  in  1922.  Prior  to 
that  time,  the  incident  was  wholly  unknown  and  the  statement  by  all  Lincoln 
biographers  that  his  integrity  had  never  been  assailed  was  conceded  beyond 
question.  Following  the  discovery  of  the  suit,  Lincoln's  letters  to  his  local  law- 
yer were  unearthed  from  the  attic  in  the  old  home  of  George  B.  Kinkead,  where 
they  had  lain  for  nearly  seventy  years.  William  H.  Townsend,  Abraham  Lincoln, 
Defendant  .  .  .    (Boston,  Houghton,   1923). 

31  Works,  II,  219. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

1  Kentucky  Statesman,  April  4,  1854. 

2  Ibid.,  April  11,  1854. 

3  Works,  III,  512,  514. 

4  Springfield  Illinois  State  Journal,  July  11,  1854. 

5  Clay,  Life,  232;  Clay  in  Rice,  Reminiscences,  293-94. 

6  Springfield  Illinois  State  Register,  July  12,  1854. 

7  Illinois  State  Journal,  July  11,  14,  1854. 

8  Sandburg,  Abraham  Lincoln,  II,  168. 

9  Lincoln  to  Elihu  B.  Washburne,  February  9,  1855,  Works,  II,  305. 

10  Lincoln  to  James  S.  Sandford,  March  10,  1855,  ibid.,  308. 

11  K.  Helm,  Mary,  Wife  of  Lincoln,  106-15. 

12  George  Robertson,  Scrap  Book  on  Law  and  Politics,  Men  and  Times   (Lex- 
ington, Elder,  1855),  21-26;  Annals  of  Congress,  15  Cong.,  2  Sess.,  1238. 

13  Lincoln  to  George  Robertson,  August  15,  1855,  Works,  II,  317-18. 

14  Lincoln  to  Joshua  F.  Speed,  August  24,  1855,  ibid.,  320-23. 

15  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  January  1,  1856. 
10  Kyler  v.  Dunlap,  57  Ky.  Reports,  447. 

17  The  original  of  this  letter  is  in  the  Townsend  Collection. 

18  ibid. 

19  Ibid. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  228-47  377 

20  Works,  II,  461. 

21  W.  P.  Boyd  to  John  J.  Crittenden,  July  17,  1858,  Crittenden  Mss.  (Library 
of  Congress). 

22  Works,  I,  448. 

23  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  August  4,  1858. 
2*  Ibid.,  August  18,  1858. 

25  Nicolay  and  Hay,  Abraham  Lincoln,  II,  160. 

26  Edwin  E.  Sparks  (ed.),  The  Lincoln-Douglas  Debates  of  1858  (Springfield, 
Illinois  State  Historical  Library,  1908),  148-90. 

27  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  October  30,  1858. 

28  Political  Debates  between  Hon.  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Hon.  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  (Columbus,  Follett,  Foster,  1860),  75.  All  quotations  from  Lincoln's 
speeches  are  taken  from  a  copy  of  the  Debates  autographed  and  presented  by 
Lincoln  to  his  former  law  partner,  Stephen  T.  Logan,  now  in  the  Townsend 
Collection. 

29  Sparks,  311-20. 

30  Political  Debates,  136. 

31  Koerner,  Memoirs,  II,  66-67. 

32  Illinois  Daily  State  Register,  October  23,  1858. 

33  Lincoln  to  John  J.  Crittenden,  July  7,  1858,  Works,  II,  483-84. 

34  Mrs.  Coleman,  Crittenden,  II,  162. 

35  "I  am  the  only  person  in  the  world  who  knows  you  wrote  Lincoln  .  .  . 
what  is  out  has  been  guessed  at."  Herndon  to  Crittenden,  November  1,  1858, 
Crittenden  Mss. 

36  For  a  full  account  of  this  controversy  see  Illinois  Daily  State  Register,  Octo- 
ber 23,  26,  28,  30,  November  1,  2,  1858;  and  Illinois  State  Journal,  October  25, 
27,  29,  30,  November  1,  2,  1858. 

37  Oliver  R.  Barrett  (ed.),  Lincoln's  Last  Speech  in  Springfield  in  the  Cam- 
paign of  1858  (Chicago,  Chicago,  1924). 

38  Morgan,  ibid.,  22. 

39  Herndon  to  Theodore  Parker,  November  8,  1858,  in  Joseph  Fort  Newton, 
Lincoln  and  Herndon   (Cedar  Rapids,  Iowa,  Torch,  1910),  234. 

40  Chicago  Daily  Democrat,  November  9,  1858. 

41  Works,  V,  216. 

42  Lincoln  to  Crittenden,  November  4,  1858,  ibid.,  90. 

43  Lincoln  to  A.  G.  Henry,  November  19,  1858,  ibid.,  94. 


CHAPTER  XV 

1  Lincoln  to  Maria  Bullock,  January  3,  1859,  Works,  III,  348. 

2  Lincoln  to  T.  J.  Prichett,  April  16,  1859,  ibid.,  377. 

3  Robert  Todd  Lincoln  Collection. 

4  Willis   Thornton,   "The   American   Centaur,"    in   American   Heritage    (Bur- 
lington, Vt.,  1947-        ),  n.  s.  II    (Winter,  1951),  12-15. 

5  Printed  copy  of  these  testimonials  are  in  the  Robert  Todd  Lincoln  Collection. 

6  Barton,  Abraham  Lincoln,  I,  169;  Reep,  Lincoln  at  New  Salem,  98. 

7  Works,  III,  438;  see  also  Address  of  Abraham  Lincoln  of  Illinois  in  Cincin- 
nati, Ohio,  September  17,  1859   (Cincinnati,  Lotz,  1910). 

8  Lincoln  to  William  M.  Dickson,  June  7,  1860,  Works,  IV,  72. 

9  Lincoln  to  Lyman  Trumbull,  April  29,  1860,  ibid.,  45-46. 

10  Kentucky  Statesman,  April  13,  1860. 


378  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  249-60 

11  Card  of  Cassius  M.  Clay,  ibid.;  Clay,  Life,  250-55. 

12  Addison  G.  Proctor's  address,  in  Grand  Army  Hall  and  Memorial  Associa- 
tion of  Illinois,  Twenty  Third  Lincoln  Birthday  Service  in  Memorial  Hall,  Feb- 
ruary 12,  1922  (Chicago,  1922),  30-40.  Proctor  says  that  this  spokesman  for  the 
Kentucky  delegation  was  Cassius  M.  Clay.  Clay,  however,  says  in  his  Life:  "I  did 
not  attend  the  convention."  When  the  author  called  Proctor's  attention  to  this 
statement,  he  still  insisted  that  "Clay  was  certainly  at  the  hotel  that  night, 
whether  he  was  at  the  convention  or  not.  ...  I  feel,"  he  said,  "that  your  Cas- 
sius M.  Clay  was  one  of  the  factors  in  giving  Lincoln  to  this  nation  and  to  our 
Party  its  first  national  victory.  He  was  one  of  the  big  men  of  those  times." 
Proctor  to  the  author,  October  12,  1922. 

13  "At  one  time  a  thousand  voices  called  Clay!  Clay!  to  the  convention.  If 
the  multitude  could  have  had  their  way,  Mr.  Clay  would  have  been  put  on  the 
ticket  by  acclamation."  M.  Halstead,  Caucuses  of  1860  .  .  .  (Columbus,  Follett, 
Foster,  1860),  151. 

14  Works,  IV,  53. 

15  Lincoln  to  Clay,  July  20,  1860,  ibid.,  85. 

16  Clay  to  Lincoln,  August  6,  1860,  ibid.,  93n. 

17  Lincoln  to  Clay,  August  10,  1860,  ibid.,  92. 

18  Herndon,  Lincoln,  III,  478. 

19  Kentucky  Statesman,  August  17,  1860. 

20  Lincoln  to  Samuel  Haycraft,  August  16,  23,  1860,  Works,  IV,  97,  99. 

21  Kentucky  Statesman,  September  11,  1860. 

22  Ibid.,  November  9,  1860.  The  omission  of  Fayette  County  from  the  list  of 
Breckinridge  returns  was  deliberate;  Bell  carried  the  county  by  a  majority.  He 
also  received  a  plurality  in  the  state.   Ibid.,  December  4,  1860. 

23  Horace  Buckner  to  John  J.  Frost   (Townsend  Collection). 

24  Letter  to  Charles  Hedden,  December  28,  1860    (Townsend  Collection). 

25  Works,  IV,  141. 

26  Kentucky  Statesman,  November  9,  1860. 

27  "From  the  beginning  of  the  rebellion,  Lincoln  felt  that  Kentucky  would  be 
a  turning  weight  in  the  scale  of  war.  He  believed  he  knew  the  temper  and 
fidelity  of  his  native  state,  and  gave  her  his  special  care  and  confidence."  Nicolay 
and  Hay,  Abraham  Lincoln,  IV,  235. 

28  Lincoln  to  Browning,  September  22,  1861,  Works,  IV,  190. 

29  Robertson  to  Crittenden,  December  16,  1860,  Crittenden  Mss. 

30  Works,  IV,  173. 

31  Davis  to  Crittenden,  December  10,  1860,  Crittenden  Mss. 

32  Kentucky  Statesman,  November  30,  1860. 

33  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  to  W.  C.  P.  Breckinridge,  November  18,  1860,  Breck- 
inridge Mss. 

34  Kentucky  Statesman,  December  28,  1860. 

35  Ibid.,  January  4,  1861. 

36  Garret  Davis  to  Crittenden,  December  10,  1860,  and  Crittenden  note,  May 
1,  1863,  Crittenden  Mss. 

37  See  Chapter  XVI. 

38  Louisville  Daily  Journal,  January  11,  1861. 

39  s.  Guiteau  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  January  24,  1861,  Breckinridge  Mss. 

40  Illinois  State  Journal,  February  22,  1861. 

41  Letters  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  from  Charles  Hodge,  January  10,  1861; 
Lewis  F.  Alley,  January  14,  1861;  Francis  Lieber,  January  16,  1861;  L.  R.  Baugh- 
er,  January  19,  1861;  Jos.  Smith,  January  25,  1861;  and  D.  B.  Duffield,  February 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  260-75  379 

17,  1861,  Breckinridge  Mss.  "A.  J.  M."  writes:  "I  am  circulating  the  address 
among  my  friends— it  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  one.  It  has  strengthened 
the  hearts  &  spirit  of  the  conservative  men  here  &  will  do  much  good."  "To 
part  with  the  Stars  &  Stripes  would  be  a  sad  &  mournful  alternative,"  wrote  a 
correspondent  from  Petersburg,  Virginia,  "but  'Old  Abe's'  speeches  so  far  give 
little  promise  of  conciliation."    Mcllvaine  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  February 

18,  1861,  ibid. 

42  "I  greatly  rejoice,"  wrote  Senator  Garret  Davis,  "that  Kentucky  has  a  na- 
tive son  who  is  wise  and  dauntless  enough  to  hold  her  to  the  course  that  will 
pilot  her  through  these  perilous  breakers."  Davis  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge, 
January  15,  1861,  ibid. 

43  w.  W.  Bell  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  January  19,  1861,  ibid. 

44  Leslie  Combs  to  Howard  Combs,  February  4,  1861,  in  Louisville  Journal, 
March  4,  1861. 

45  Herndon's  Life  of  Lincoln    (Angle  ed.),  389-90. 

46  Works,  IV,  190. 

47  Robert  Todd  Lincoln  Collection. 

48  Works,  IV,  197. 

49  ibid.,  200. 

50  John  Jeffrey  to  "Dear  Aleck,"  Cincinnati,  February  16,  1861  (Townsend 
Collection). 

51  Washington  Evening  Star,  February  13,  1861. 

52  Ibid.,  and  later  issues. 

53  Louisville  Daily  Courier,  March  2,  1861. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

1  Allen  Johnson,  Stephen  A.  Douglas:  A  Study  in  American  Politics  (New 
York,  Macmillan,  1908),  464. 

2  Kentucky  Statesman,  March  12,  1861. 

3  Mme.  Mentelle  died  September  8,  1860,  having  "nearly  completed  her  90th 
year."  "There  are  few  women,"  said  the  Statesman,  "who  lived  so  simple  and 
private  a  life,  who  were  so  widely  known.  Her  rare  gifts  and  still  rarer  attain- 
ments won  her  the  admiration  and  regard  of  some  of  the  most  distinguished 
men  of  her  day.  Her  pure,  simple,  frugal  life,  free  from  everything  like  affec- 
tation, and  full  of  charity,  kindness  and  good  works  was  worthy  of  such  gifts. 
She  preserved  all  her  faculties  unclouded  to  her  death.  Her  intellect  was  above 
the  power  of  time,  and  old  age  produced  no  weakness  in  her  great  mind."  Ibid., 
September  14,  1860. 

±Ibid.,  March  12,  1861. 

5  Lincoln's  Farewell  Address  at  Springfield,  February  11,  1861,  Works,  IV,  190. 

6  Works,  IV,  557. 

I  Harry  E.  Pratt  (ed.),  Concerning  Mr.  Lincoln  .  .  .  (Springfield,  Abraham 
Lincoln  Association,  1944),  99. 

8  Lincoln's  statement  to  L.  B.  Todd,  March  23,  1861,  according  to  statements 
of  Dr.  Alexander  T.  Parker,  February  3,  1919,  and  Captain  J.  R.  Howard,  May 
1,  1922    (Townsend  Collection). 

9  Kentucky  Statesman,  March  8,  1861. 

10  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  April  13,  1861. 

II  K.  Helm,  Mary,  Wife  of  Lincoln,  184. 
12  Ibid.,  187. 


380  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  275-84 

13  Elizabeth  Todd  Grimsley,  "Six  Months  in  the  White  House,"  in  Journal 
of  the  Illinois  Historical  Society   (Springfield,  1908-        ),  XIX   (1926-1927),  43-73. 

14  Nicolay  and  Hay,  Abraham  Lincoln,  IV,  106;  Clay,  Life,  259-64. 

15  Clay,  Life,  264. 

16  "Kentucky  will  furnish  no  troops  for  the  wicked  purpose  of  subduing  her 
sister  Southern  states,"  was  Governor  Magoffin's  terse  reply  to  Lincoln's  call  for 
volunteers. 

17  Kentucky  Statesman,  May  14,  1861. 

18  It  has  been  hitherto  supposed  that  all  of  Mrs.  Lincoln's  half  sisters  were 
Confederate  sympathizers,  but  a  series  of  recently  discovered  letters  written  by 
Margaret  Todd  Kellogg  to  Lizzie  Fleming  during  the  war,  formerly  owned  by 
Mrs.  William  C.  Goodloe  of  Lexington,  shows  her  to  have  been  a  stanch  Unionist. 
Mrs.  Kellogg,  however,  maintained  the  most  affectionate  relations  with  her 
mother,  Betsy  Todd,  and  the  deepest  solicitude  for  her  brothers  and  sisters  on 
the  other  side. 

19  Kentucky  Statesman,  April  16,  May  24,  1861. 

20  ibid.,  April  19,  1861. 

21  Ibid.,  April  23,  1861.  On  February  1  the  Statesman  chided  those  who  raised 
the  Stars  and  Stripes,  saying,  "Let  children  play  with  flags." 

22  ibid.,  April  30,  1861. 

23  "In  the  untimely  loss  of  your  noble  son,"  wrote  Lincoln  to  Colonel  Ells- 
worth's parents,  May  25,  1861,  "our  affliction  here  is  scarcely  less  than  your  own." 
Works,  IV,  385. 

24  Kentucky  Statesman,  May  28,  1861.  The  issue  of  June  25,  1861,  refers  to 
Jackson  as  the  "Immortal  Hero  who  slew  the  ill-bred  braggart  at  Alexandria." 

25  "The  people  don't  talk  about  anything  but  Lincoln's  Inaugural  address 
and  your  Review,"  Steele  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  August  9,  1861,  Breckin- 
ridge Mss.  "There  is  a  large  demand  for  it  over  here  which  has  yet  not  begun 
to  be  satisfied,"  J.  D.  Jackson  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  November  27,  1861, 
ibid.  "I  think  the  last  article,  even  better  than  the  first,  if  that  were  possible," 
wrote  R.  W.  Landis  from  Missouri.  "I  go  for  it  every  word.  ...  It  is  doing  a 
great  deal  of  good  and  our  people  have  been  publishing  parts  of  it,  and  it  fills 
the  Union  people  with  great  delight,"  Landis  to  John  Breckinridge,  July  11, 
1861,  ibid. 

26  L.  A.  Lapsley  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  October  3,  1861,  ibid. 

27  Kentucky  Statesman,  June  14,  1861. 

28  David  Sayre  to  Dr.  Louis  A.  Sayre,  May  14,  1861  (copy  in  Townsend  Col- 
lection). 

29  Five  members  of  the  Kentucky  delegation  in  Congress  wrote  their  names  on 
the  bottom  of  this  letter.  Colonel  Bayles,  a  brick  contractor  of  Lexington,  or- 
ganized the  Fourth  Kentucky  Cavalry  that  bore  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  battle 
of  Chickamauga  and  the  engagements  around  Atlanta.    Works,  IV,  464. 

30  Orlando  Brown  to  John  J.  Crittenden,  July  5,  1861,  Crittenden  Mss. 

31  Kentucky  Statesman,  July  12,  1861. 

32  Works,  IV,  434. 

33  R.  w.  Landis  to  John  Breckinridge,  July  11,  1861,  Breckinridge  Mss. 

34  D.  R.  Happersett  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  September  13,  1861,  ibid. 
^Kentucky  Statesman,  September  13,  1861. 

36  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  September  30,  1861. 

37  Kentucky  Statesman,  September  24,  1861. 

38  With  the  last  issue  the  Statesman  fired  a  parting  volley:  "Who  then  has 
betrayed  you?    Whose  soldiers  now  trod  your  soil?    Whose  Army  is  encamped 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  284-97  381 

around  you?    Whose  arms  and  munitions  flaunt  their  flags  in  your  faces  and 
shriek  their  partisan  cries  in  your  ears?    Lincoln!    Lincoln!    Lincoln!"    Ibid. 

39  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  December  16,  1861. 

40  Basil  W.  Duke,  History  of  Morgan's  Cavalry  (Cincinnati,  Miami,  1867), 
89-90. 

41  Samuel  J.  Baird  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  October  31,  1861,  Breckinridge 
Mss. 

42  L.  B.  Todd  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  November  23,  1861,  ibid. 

43  J.  C.  S.  Blackburn  in  Bennett  H.  Young  (ed.),  Kentucky  Eloquence,  Past 
and  Present  .  .  .    (Louisville,  La  Bree,   1907),  61. 

44  Cong.  Globe,  37  Cong.,  2  Sess.,  9. 

45  "I  need  not  say  that  your  last  article  has  produced  a  profound  impression. 
Our  ablest  lawyers  call  it  the  ablest  paper  that  the  crisis  has  produced.  It  has 
been  copied  very  extensively  and  we  believe  has  done  immense  good.  I  do  not 
think  it  is  too  much  to  say  that  your  articles  have  done  more  to  influence  the 
intellect  of  the  nation  than  any  other  instrumentality."  S.  Guiteau  to  Robert 
J.  Breckinridge,  Baltimore,  January  7,  1862,  Breckinridge  Mss. 

46  J.  R.  Hughes,  March  6,  1862;  Jos.  Wood,  March  7,  1862;  and  R.  D.  Finley, 
March  7,  1862,  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  ibid. 

47  L.  B.  Todd  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  March  6,  1862,  ibid. 

48  Cincinnati  Enquirer,  May  21,  1862;  Cincinnati  Evening  Times,  May  21,  1862. 

49  Order  Book  44,  Fayette  Circuit  Court,  99-328. 

50  Lincoln  to  Gratz,  August  23,  1863,  Works,  VI,  148. 

51  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  October  25,  1862. 

52  Cincinnati  Daily  Commercial,  August  27,  1862. 

53  "On  yesterday  the  paper  had  published,  under  the  head  'A  Pious  Wish,' 
a  speech  mother  made  on  Saturday  at  the  Exhibition.  .  .  .  The  speech  alluded 
to  John  M.  She  wished  there  were  ten  thousand."  Margaret  Kellogg  to  Lizzie 
Fleming,  June  10,  1862  (formerly  owned  by  Mrs.  William  C.  Goodloe,  Lexing- 
ton, Ky.).    See  also  Cincinnati  Daily  Commercial,  June  9,  1862. 

54  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  October  27,  1862. 

55  Emilie  Todd  Helm  Scrap  Books    (Townsend  Collection). 

56  Works,  V,  364. 

57  The  original  of  this  letter  is  still  in  the  possession  of  the  Clay  family  at 
Lexington.    Works,  V,  363-64. 

58  ibid.,  386. 

59  Townsend  Collection. 

60  Clay,  Life,  302-309. 

61  Ibid.,  310. 

62  William  Henry  Perrin  (ed.),  History  of  Fayette  County,  Kentucky  .  .  .  (Chi- 
cago, Baskin,  1882),  548-60. 

63  Morton  to  Stanton,  September  2,  1862,  War  of  the  Rebellion:  A  Compila- 
tion of  the  Official  Records  of  the  Union  and  Confederate  Armies  (128  vols., 
Washington,  D.  C,  1880-1901),  Ser.  1,  XVI,  pt.  2,  p.  357. 

64  ibid.,  465. 

65  From  original  broadside  in  Coleman  Collection. 

66  Francis  Fisher  Browne,  The  Every-day  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln  .  .  .  (rev. 
ed.,  New  York,  Putnam,  1915),  305. 

67  Confederate  sympathizers  had  not  lost  hope  of  "permanent  deliverance"  in 
Lexington.  "In  a  letter  from  mother  [Mrs.  Todd]  last  night,  she  has  concluded 
to  remain  until  her  Southern  friends  arrive,  in  order  to  try  and  protect  some 
of  her  not  altogether  conservative  ones  in  Ky."   Margaret  Kellogg  to  Lizzie  Flem- 


382  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  297-320 

ing,  Cincinnati,  March  20,  1863    (formerly  owned  by  Mrs.  William  C.  Goodloe). 
68  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  to  R.  Bernie,  November  4,  1862,  Breckinridge  Mss. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

1  Levi  Coffin,  Reminiscences  of  Levi  Coffin  .  .  .  (Cincinnati,  Western  Tract 
Society,  1876),  606. 

2  Coffin,  612-18. 

3  Works,  V,  502-503. 
4 /foid.,  512. 

5  Act  approved  February  14,  1873,  42  Cong.,  3  Sess.,  chap.  CXLI. 

6  Utley  to  Lincoln,  November  17,  1862    (Robert  Todd  Lincoln  Collection). 

7  Utley  to  Randall,  November  17,  1862,  ibid. 

8  Thos.  P.  Dudley  to  Lincoln,  November  20,  1862  (copy  in  Townsend  Collec- 
tion). 

9  Oliver  Christian  Bosbyshell,  The  48th  in  the  War  .  .  .  (Philadelphia,  Avil, 
1895),  1-21. 

10  Letters  of  Henry  Clay  Heisler  to  his  sister,  April  20  and  May  31,  1863  (in 
possession  of  his  grandson,  Donald  Hobart,  vice-president  of  Curtis  Publishing 
Co.,  Philadelphia). 

11  Bosbyshell,  108. 

12  Ibid.,  113. 

13  Henry  Clay  Heisler  to  his  sister,  September  15,  1863. 

14  Works,  VI,  220. 

15  Ibid. 

16  Townsend  Collection. 

17  K.  Helm,  Mary,  Wife  of  Lincoln,  216. 

18  Ibid.,  221. 

19  Ibid.,  232. 

20  Works,  VII,  64. 

21  Benjamin  F.  Butler,  Private  and  Official  Correspondence  ...  (5  vols.,  Nor- 
wood, Mass.,  Plimpton,  1917),  IV,  98,  99. 

22  ibid.,  99-101. 

23  Henry  Kyd  Douglas  to  Emilie  Todd  Helm,  September  26,  1898  (Townsend 
Collection). 

24  Henry  Kyd  Douglas  to  Emilie  Todd  Helm,  October  4,  1898,  ibid. 

25  Emilie  Todd  Helm  Scrap  Books. 

26  Report  on  the  Treatment  of  Prisoners  of  War  by  the  Rebel  Authorities 
.  .  .,  House  Reports,  40  Cong.,  3  Sess.,  No.  45   (Washington,  1869),  862. 

27  Emilie  Todd  Helm  Scrap  Books. 

28  Report  on  the  Treatment  of  Prisoners  of  War,  1005. 

29  ibid.,  1008,  1086;  Emilie  Todd  Helm  Scrap  Books. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

1  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  January  6,  1864. 

2  Ibid.,  January  16,  1864.  The  resolution  was  so  bitter  that  a  motion  was  made 
to  expel  Davis  from  the  Senate. 

3  Burbridge   to   Maxwell,   October   30,    1864,    War  of   the   Rebellion,   Ser.    1, 
XXXIX,  526. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  320-28  383 

4  War  of  the  Rebellion,  Ser.  I,  XXXIX,  203. 

5  Ida  M.  Tarbell,  The  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln  ...  (4  vols.,  New  York,  Lin- 
coln Historical  Society,  1903),  IV,  236,  240,  250. 

6  "It  might  be  thought  strange,  he  said,  that  he  had  in  this  way  submitted 
the  disposal  of  matters  when  the  way  was  not  clear  to  his  mind  what  he  should 
do.  God  had  decided  this  question  in  favor  of  the  slaves."  Entry  for  September 
22,  1862,  Diary  of  Gideon  Welles  ...    (3  vols.,  Boston,  Houghton,  1911),  I,  143. 

7  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  June  16,  1864. 

8  Entry  for  April  30,  1864.  The  original  diary  is  in  the  John  Hay  Memorial 
Library  of  Brown  University  at  Providence,  Rhode  Island. 

9  Rufus  Rockwell  Wilson,  Intimate  Memories  of  Lincoln  (Elmira,  N.  Y., 
Primavera,  1945),  578. 

10  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  March  12,  1864.  "He  elaborated  two  ideas," 
said  the  National  Unionist.  "Old  Abe  was  a  rascal,  and  ought  to  be  hung,  and 
McClellan  was  a  great  Democrat  and  ought  to  be  elected  President."  Lexington 
National  Unionist,  April  8,  1864. 

11  "Fayette  is  overwhelmingly  opposed  to  the  Administration  and  its  policy, 
and  this  will  be  made  manifest  upon  all  occasions  when  the  popular  voice  is 
fully  expressed."   Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  April  13,  1864. 

12  W.  C.  Goodloe  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  April  3,  1864,  Breckinridge  Mss. 

13  Hiram  Shaw  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  March ,  1864,  ibid. 

14  R.  L.  Stanton  to  Robert  Breckinridge,  June  4,  1864,  ibid. 

15  Sallie  Ward  Hunt  to  Mrs.  Lincoln,  March  31,  1864,  original  for  many  years 
in  the  collection  of  Oliver  R.  Barrett  of  Chicago. 

16  Works,  VII,  295-96. 

17  "When  the  Doctor  was  told  of  this  resemblance  he  replied  that  he  had  a 
son  in  the  hall  'who  is  the  very  spit  of  John.'  "  Forney  in  Temple  Bodley  and 
Samuel  M.  Wilson,  History  of  Kentucky   (4  vols.,  Chicago,  Clarke,  1928),  II,  353. 

18  William  E.  Dodd,  "Lincoln's  Last  Struggle— Victory?"  in  Lincoln  Centennial 
Association  Papers  .  .  .  1927    (Springfield,  111.,  1927). 

19  Cincinnati  Daily  Commercial,  June  10,  1864;  New  York  Tribune,  June  10, 
1864;  D.  F.  Murphy,  Presidential  Election,  1864:  Proceedings  of  the  National 
Union  Convention  .  .  .    (New  York,  Baker  &  Godwin,  1864),  8. 

20  Browning  Diary,  entry  for  June  12,  1864. 

21  "Rev.  Robt.  J.  Breckinridge  was  Burbridge's  friend  and  adviser.  He  was 
frequently  summoned  to  headquarters,  and  Burbridge  often  went  miles  to  con- 
sult the  wise  old  Doctor."  General  Jas.  S.  Brisbin  in  Cincinnati  Daily  Commer- 
cial, November  25,  1867. 

22  Duke,  Morgan's  Cavalry,  513.  In  fact,  many  of  Morgan's  new  command 
bore  a  secret  grievance  against  him  and  the  Kentuckians  in  his  brigade.  "If 
you  will  notice,  no  man  has  ever  been  noticed  for  gallantry  either  by  Morgan, 
Breckinridge  or  Duke  who  has  not  come  from  Lexington  or  thereabouts."  J. 
H.  Clemmons  to  Doctor  Marsh,  December  3,  1864,  War  of  the  Rebellion,  Ser.  1, 
XLV,  pt.  2,  p.  505. 

23  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  June  11,  1864. 

24  Ibid.,  June  15,  1864.  The  editor  was  fair  enough  to  say  that  General  Mor- 
gan and  the  Kentuckians  in  his  command  sought  without  avail  to  protect  private 
property,  and  this  is  corroborated  by  General  Basil  Duke:  "On  this  raid,  great 
and  inexcusable  excesses  were  committed,  but  except  in  two  or  three  flagrant 
instances,  they  were  committed  by  men  who  had  never  before  served  with  Gen- 
eral Morgan.  The  men  of  his  old  division  and  Giltner's  fine  brigade  were  rarely 
guilty."    Duke,  528. 


384  NOTES  FOR  PAGES  328-52 

25  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  June  10,   1864. 

26Burbridge  to  Halleck,  June  13,  1864,  War  of  the  Rebellion,  Ser.  1,  XXXIX, 
1,20. 

27  Lincoln  to  Burbridge,  June  14,  1864,  Works,  VII,  391. 

28  Levi  Todd  to  Lincoln,  September  12,  1864  (Robert  Todd  Lincoln  Collec- 
tion). 

29  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  to  Lincoln,  September  12,  1864,  ibid. 

30  Robert  J.  Breckinridge  to  W.  C.  P.  Breckinridge,  September  1,  1864,  Breck- 
inridge Mss. 

31  National  Unionist,  November  11,  1864. 

32Emilie  Todd  Helm  to  Lincoln,  October  30,  1864  (Robert  Todd  Lincoln 
Collection). 

33  Statements  of  Emilie  Todd  Helm  to  author. 

34  Works,  VIII,  98-99. 

35  War  of  the  Rebellion,  Ser.  1,  XXXIX,  749. 

36  Collins,  History  of  Kentucky,  I,  149. 

37  Louisville  Journal,  November  17,  1864. 

38  General  Burbridge's  friendship  for  Dr.  Breckinridge  was  doubtless  the  rea- 
son for  Steele's  not  being  brought  to  Lexington.  General  Brisbin  says  that  when 
he  heard  of  Steele's  capture  he  asked  Burbridge  what  he  intended  to  do  with 
him  and  the  general  replied:  "Nothing  if  I  can  help  it.  Dr.  Breckinridge  has 
had  enough  of  trouble  already."  General  Brisbin  in  Cincinnati  Daily  Commer- 
cial, November  25,  1867. 

39  Joseph  C.  Breckinridge  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  December  25,  1864, 
Breckinridge  Mss. 

40  Chas.  Egenton  to  R.  J.  Breckinridge,  December  18,  1864,  ibid. 

41  Tarrance  Kirby  to  Lincoln,  Bowling  Green,  Kentucky,  September  8,  1864 
(Townsend  Collection). 

42  Martha  M.  Jones  to  Lincoln,  February  1,  1865  (letter  and  Lincoln's  pass  in 
Townsend  Collection). 

43  Emilie  Todd  Helm  Scrap  Books;  Judge  Robertson's  account  to  George  B. 
Kincaid    (memorandum  in  Townsend  Collection). 

44  For  a  more  detailed  account  see  John  M.  Bullock,  "President  Lincoln's 
Visiting  Card,"  in  Century  Magazine   (New  York,  1881-1930),  LV    (1898),  565-71. 

45  Louisville  Daily  Journal,  February  27,  1865. 

46  Jos.  Breckinridge  to  John  Breckinridge,  April   10,   1865,  Breckinridge  Mss. 

47  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  April  12,  1865. 

48  ibid.,  April  15,  1865. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

1  Contrary  to  prevailing  opinion,  there  was  genuine  sorrow  among  those  lead- 
ers of  the  Confederacy  who  realized  what  Lincoln's  death  meant  to  the  South. 
Jefferson  Davis  spoke  of  it  as  "The  last  crowning  calamity  of  a  despairing  and 
defeated  though  righteous  cause."  John  J.  Craven,  Prison  Life  of  Jefferson 
Davis  .  .  .  (New  York,  Carleton,  1866),  diary  entry  for  August  20,  1865.  Mrs. 
Jefferson  Davis  says  in  her  Jefferson  Davis,  Ex-president  of  the  Confederate 
States  of  America,  a  Memoir  by  his  wife  (2  vols.,  New  York,  Belford,  1890),  II, 
615:  "I  burst  into  tears."  "I  regret  Mr.  Lincoln's  death  as  much  as  any  man 
in  the  North,"  said  General  Lee,  "and  I  believe  him  to  be  the  epitome  of  mag- 
nanimity and  good  faith."    Clark,  Lincoln  in  the  National  Capital,  118. 


NOTES  FOR  PAGES  352-56  385 

2  A.  E.  Carroll  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  April  17,  1865,  Breckinridge  Mss. 

3  S.  Guiteau  to  Robert  J.  Breckinridge,  April  27,  1865,  ibid. 

4  Pratt  Diary,  entry  for  April  17,  1865. 

5  National  Unionist,  April  18,  1865. 

6  Lexington  Observer  &  Reporter,  April  19,  1865. 

7  Willard  Rouse  Jillson,  Lincoln  Back  Home  .  .  .  (Lexington,  Transylvania, 
1932),  82;  Louisville  Daily  Journal,  April  27,  1865. 

8  Frankfort   (Ky.)  Commonwealth,  May  9,  1865. 

9  National  Unionist,  April  21,  1865. 

io  "The  lilacs  were  in  bloom  .  .  .,  and  Whitman  has  forever  associated  their 
annual  efflorescence  with  memories  of  the  last  journey  of  Abraham  Lincoln." 
Barton,  Abraham  Lincoln,  II,  365.  See  Walt  Whitman's  "When  Lilacs  Last  in 
the  Dooryard  Bloom'd." 

11  National  Unionist,  April  28,  1865. 

12  Ibid.,  April  21,  1865. 


Index 


American  Colonization  Society,  praised 

by  Clay,  142. 
Anderson,  Col.  Oliver,  opposed  Todd 

for  nomination,   165ff. 
"Ashland,"  Clay's  home,  26. 
Austin,  Benedict,  in  joint  debate,  163- 

64. 

Bell,  John,  nominated  for  President, 
249. 

Benning,  Thomas  R.,  killed  in  slavery 
controversy,  54. 

Blair,  Montgomery,  conference  with 
Lincoln,  338-39. 

Booth,  John  Wilkes,  in  Lexington,  289. 

Bosbyshell,  Capt.  Oliver  C,  307,  308- 
309. 

Bradford,  John,  2,  6,  9,  20. 

Breckinridge,  John  C,  13,  209-10;  nom- 
inated for  President,  249;  welcomed 
to  Lexington,  251;  counted  presiden- 
tial votes,  267;  spoke  to  citizens  of 
Lexington,  277;  expelled  from  Sen- 
ate, 286-87. 

Breckinridge,  Robert  J.,  255-56,  258ff., 
307,  335;  denounced  proslavery 
group,  53;  spoke  against  slavery,  140; 
accepted  bowie  knife  from  Clay,  163; 
helped  preserve  Union,  280;  dele- 
gate to  National  Union  convention, 
323;  temporary  chairman  at  Nation- 
al Union  convention,  326;  worked 
for  Lincoln's  re-election,  330. 

Breckinridge,  Robert  J.,  Jr.,  rebel  col- 
onel, 347. 

Brown,  Dr.  Samuel,  noted  physician,  5. 

Brown,  Samuel  M.,  post-office  agent, 
duels  with  Clay,  83-84. 


Browning,  Orville  H.,  186. 

Buckner,  Judge  Richard  A.,  sought  re- 
election, 282. 

Bullock,  John,  conference  with  Lin- 
coln, 342-47. 

Bullock,  Lt.  Waller  R.,  342. 

Burbridge,  General,  320,  329. 

Burr,  Col.  Aaron,  arrived  in  Lexing- 
ton, 7. 

Burr-Wilkinson  controversy,  7. 

Campbell,  Judge  James,  in  joint  de- 
bate, 163-64. 

Cartwright,  Peter,  defeated  by  Lin- 
coln, 120. 

Central  Military  District  of  Kentucky, 
headquarters  moved  to  Lexington, 
306. 

Chinn,  Julia,  Johnson's  mistress,  76. 

Cholera,  epidemic  in  Lexington,  170ff. 

Clary,  Bill,  fights  Lincoln,  39-40. 

Clay,  Cassius  M.,  denounced  proslavery 
group,  53;  involved  in  duel,  83-84; 
defended  by  Henry  Clay,  85-86;  an- 
tislavery  advocate  in  Kentucky,  99ff.; 
led  Lexington  Light  Infantry,  138- 
39;  gave  bowie  knife  to  Breckin- 
ridge, 163;  spoke  near  Lexington, 
164-65;  attacked  by  opponents,  169; 
attacked  repeal  of  Missouri  Compro- 
mise, 211-13;  campaigned  for  Re- 
publican party,  247;  urged  Lincoln 
for  President,  247;  campaigned  for 
Lincoln,  248-50;  organized  "Clay 
Battalion,"  276;  appointed  minister 
to  Russia,  293;  urged  Lincoln  to 
proclaim  freedom  of  slaves  in  se- 
ceded states,  293. 


388 


INDEX 


Clay,  Henry,  6;  moved  to  dismiss 
charges  against  Burr,  8;  delivered 
speech,  9;  admired  by  Lincoln,  36; 
Secretary  of  State,  47-48;  Lincoln's 
idol,  82;  defended  C.  M.  Clay,  85-86; 
defeated  in  1848,  98;  visited  by  Lin- 
coln, 132;  spoke  in  Lexington,  133- 
35;  praised  American  Colonization 
Society,  142;  wrote  letter  on  slavery, 
160;  recommended  Offutt,  184; 
pleaded  for  preservation  of  the 
Union,  199;  eulogized  by  Lincoln, 
203-204;  monument  dedicated  to, 
282. 

Clay,  James  B.,  278;  avowed  disunion- 
ist,  282. 

Clay,  John  M„  letter  to  Lincoln,  291- 
92. 

Clay,  Porter,  4. 

Crittenden,  John  J.,  Todd's  best  man, 
50;  favored  Douglas  over  Lincoln, 
234-35;  credited  for  Lincoln's  de- 
feat, 238. 

Daviess,  Col.  Joseph  Hamilton,  20; 
filed  treason  charges  against  Burr,  8. 

Davis,  Garret,  257;  introduced  resolu- 
tion against  Lincoln,  320. 

Davis,  Jefferson,  13. 

Douglas,  Henry  Kyd,  lawyer  in  Mary- 
land, 316-17. 

Douglas,  Stephen  A.,  Lincoln's  oppon- 
ent, 225;  traits  of,  226;  joint  debate 
with  Lincoln  planned,  227;  favored 
by  southern  Whigs,  228;  made  Free- 
port  speech,  229;  nominated  for 
President,  249;  held  Lincoln's  hat  at 
inauguration,  270. 

Doyle,  Patrick,  leader  in  slave  insur- 
rection, 154. 

Dudley,  Dr.  Benjamin,  Lexington's 
distinguished  surgeon,  184. 

Dunlap,  J.  R.,  Todd's  successor,  174. 

Edwards,  Ninian  W.,  married  Eliza- 
beth Todd,  57. 

Elkhorn  Baptist  Association,  held  day 
of  prayer,  290. 

"Ellerslie,"  Todd's  home  in  Lexington, 
26. 

Ellsworth,  Col.  Elmer,  killed  by  Jack- 
son, 278-79. 


Emancipation     Proclamation,    Lincoln 

criticized  for,  321. 
Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  impressed  by 

Lincoln,  297. 

Fairbank,  Calvin,  bought  slave  to  free 
her,  88-90;  arrested,  96. 

Fifth  Regiment  of  Kentucky  Volun- 
teers, 9,  28. 

Fleming,  James,  testified,  21-22. 

Forty-Eighth  Pennsylvania  Regiment 
of  Infantry,  quartered  in  Lexington, 
304-305. 

"Freeport  Doctrine,"  229. 

Gibbons,  Z.,  candidate  for  city  attor- 
ney of  Lexington,  320. 

Grigsby,  Nat,  92. 

Gurley,  Rev.,  conducted  Lincoln's  fu- 
neral, 355. 

Hanks,  John,  34. 

Hanks,  Nancy,  17. 

Harrison,  Gen.  William  H.,  8. 

Hart,  Capt.  Nathaniel,  scalped,  10. 

Head,    Rev.    Jesse,    married    Lincoln's 

parents,  4. 
Heisler,  Henry  Clay,  305-306. 
Helm,  Ben  Hardin,  brother-in-law  of 

Lincoln,    274-75;    killed    at    Chicka- 

mauga,  312. 
Helm,  Emilie.    See  Todd,  Emilie. 
Henderson,  Thomas,  76. 
Holley,  Horace,  president  of  Transyl- 
vania, 14. 
Humphreys,     Elizabeth,     courted     by 

Todd,  49. 
Humphreys,   Joseph,   gave   opinion   of 

Lincoln,  124-25. 
Hunt,   Mrs.   Sallie  Ward,  wrote  Mary 

Todd,  324-25. 

Jackson,    James    T.,    killed    Ellsworth, 

279. 
Johnson,     Capt.     Henry,     second     for 

Trotter  in  duel,  56. 
Johnson,  Madison  C,  257. 
Johnson,    Col.    Richard    M.,   75ff.;    led 

Kentuckians,  10-11. 
Jones,    Martha    M.,   letter    to  Lincoln, 

340-41. 


INDEX 


389 


Kansas-Nebraska  Bill,  became  law, 
210;  denounced  by  Lincoln,  232. 

Keiser,  John,   126. 

Kentucke  Gazette,  2ff. 

Kentucky  legislature,  proclaimed  neu- 
trality, 279. 

Kentucky  Statesman,  attacked  Lincoln, 
246,  296. 

Kinkead,  George  B.,  letter  from  Lin- 
coln, 207-208. 

Kirbv,  Tarrance,  letter  to  Lincoln, 
337-38. 

Koerner,  Gustave,  233;  visited  "Ash- 
land," 61-62. 

Kyler,  Joseph,  221. 

Kyler,  Steve,  221. 

Lafayette,  General,  visited  Johnson, 
76-77. 

Lee,  Robert  E.,  surrendered  at  Appo- 
mattox, 348. 

Lexington,  named,  settled,  2;  first  leg- 
islature convened  in,  3;  public  li- 
brary organized,  5;  theater  built  in, 
7:  citizens  wanted  war,  8;  behind 
Louisville  and  Cincinnati  in  com- 
mercial activity,  62;  center  of  edu- 
cation in  Kentucky,  62;  slavery  in, 
70ff.;  Lincoln  visited,  124ff.;  had 
cholera  epidemic,  170ff.;  large  slave- 
holding  section,  255;  guns  shipped 
to,  281;  under  military  rule,  285;  oc- 
cupied by  Smith,  294-95;  taken  by 
Morgan's  troopers,  328;  grieved  over 
Lincoln's  death,  352. 

Lexington  Grammar  School,  estab- 
lished, 5. 

Lexington  Light  Infantry,  led  by  Cas- 
sius  Clay,  138-39. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  read  Parson  Weeras' 
Life  of  Washington  and  the  Ken- 
tucky Preceptor,  14;  moved  to  Illi- 
nois, 34;  made  plans  for  trip  to  New 
Orleans,  34;  saw  slaves  sold,  36;  de- 
voted follower  of  Clay,  36;  impressed 
Offutt,  36;  good  businessman,  39; 
fought  Clary,  39-40;  loved  books,  41; 
morals  noted,  42-43;  at  New  Salem, 
Illinois,  37-44;  announced  for  legis- 
lature as  Whig,  44;  description  of, 
66;  married  Mary  Todd,  70;  desired 
to  be  elected  to  Congress,  71;  knowl- 


Lincoln,  continued 

edge  of  slavery,  72;  fond  of  news- 
papers, 81;  idolized  Clay,  82;  a  Whig 
elector,  92;  backed  Clay  in  1848,  95; 
disappointed  over  Clay's  defeat,  98; 
agreed  with  Clay  on  principle  of 
slavery,  100;  disliked  Clay's  manners 
concerning  slavery,  100;  wrote  first 
detailed  statement  of  attitude  on 
slavery,  119;  elected  to  Congress, 
120-21;  visited  Lexington,  124ff.;  saw 
slavery  in  Lexington,  126ff.;  visited 
"Ashland,"  132;  read  many  books, 
135-37;  heard  Breckinridge  speak 
against  slavery,  140;  family  arrived 
in  Washington,  141;  attacked  Polk's 
foreign  policy,  142;  correspondence 
with  wife,  143-48;  popular  in  Wash- 
ington, 149;  campaigned  for  Taylor, 
155;  voted  for  Wilmot  Proviso  re- 
peatedly, 156;  alarm  over  slavery, 
157;  almost  dueled  with  Shields,  159; 
disappointed  in  Todd's  stand  on 
slavery,  166-67;  represented  Todd 
children  in  law  suit,  177;  visited 
Lexington,  179;  endorsed  Parker, 
185;  received  deeper  insight  into 
slavery  in  Lexington,  190;  sad  over 
death  of  son,  193-94;  felt  political 
days  were  over,  200;  disappointed 
over  lack  of  demand  for  re-election, 
200;  turned  to  law  practice,  200; 
most  popular  lawyer  of  circuit,  201; 
eulogized  Clay,  203-204;  letter  to 
Kinkead,  206-207;  Todd  responsible 
for  suit  against,  207;  prepared  to 
fight  extension  of  slavery,  214;  de- 
feated for  Senate,  215;  studied  slav- 
ery question,  216;  letter  to  Robert- 
son, 218-19;  "House  divided  against 
itself"  declaration  first  written,  219; 
opposed  extension  of  slavery,  219; 
delivered  famous  "Lost  Speech,"  223; 
opponent  of  Douglas,  225;  "House 
divided  against  itself"  speech  de- 
livered, 225-26;  traits  of,  226;  ridi- 
culed by  Republicans,  226-27; 
planned  joint  debate  with  Douglas, 
227;  questioned  Douglas  at  Free- 
port,  229;  against  social  equality, 
230;  favored  natural  rights  for  Ne- 
groes, 230-31;   many  friends   in  Illi- 


390 


INDEX 


Lincoln,  continued 

nois,  231;  denounced  Kansas-Nebras- 
ka Bill,  232;  defended  Clay's  princi- 
ples, 234;  defeated  for  Senate,  237; 
bore  defeat  without  complaint,  238; 
returned  to  law  practice,  239;  ab- 
sorbed in  private  affairs,  240;  letter 
from  Offutt,  240-41;  arrived  in  Cin- 
cinnati, 244;  called  a  "Black  Repub- 
lican," 244;  attacked  by  Kentucky 
Statesman,  246;  spoke  in  Kansas, 
New  York,  and  New  England,  246; 
nominated  for  Presidency,  249;  re- 
ceived two  votes  in  Lexington,  252; 
denounced  by  many,  252;  letter  to 
Speed,  253;  realized  importance  of 
Kentucky  to  Union,  254;  visited 
stepmother,  261;  left  Springfield  for 
Washington,  262;  arrived  in  Cincin- 
nati, 264;  spoke  at  Cincinnati,  264- 
66;  elected  to  Presidency,  268;  de- 
livered inaugural,  270;  besieged  by 
office  seekers,  271;  read  Lexington 
newspapers,  273;  called  for  volun- 
teers, 276;  interview  with  Clay,  278; 
message  to  Congress,  282;  in  touch 
with  Lexington,  291;  letter  to  Clay, 
292;  letter  to  Preston,  292-93;  ap- 
pointed Clay  to  Russia,  293;  urged 
to  proclaim  freedom  of  slaves  in  se- 
ceded states,  293;  attacked  by  Ken- 
tucky Statesman,  296;  impressed  Em- 
erson, 297;  issued  preliminary  Eman- 
cipation Proclamation,  299;  letter  to 
Robertson,  301-302;  letter  to  Ran- 
dall, 303;  grieved  over  death  of 
Helm,  312-13;  sent  Emilie  Todd  to 
Lexington,  314;  sharply  criticized  for 
Emancipation  Proclamation,  321; 
read  Petroleum  V.  Nasby,  322;  nom- 
inated for  President,  327;  occupied 
with  applications  for  pardons,  pa- 
roles, and  passes,  336;  second  in- 
auguration, 348;  death,  350;  funeral 
conducted,  355. 

Lincoln,  Elizabeth,  18ff. 

Lincoln,  Mary  Todd.   See  Todd,  Mary. 

Lincoln,  Mordecai,  23. 

Lincoln,  Rebecca,  16. 

Lincoln,  Tad,  313-14. 

Lincoln,    Thomas,    married    Elizabeth 
Casner,   16;   prospered  in  Kentucky, 


Lincoln,  T.,  continued 

16-17;  domestic  troubles,  18-22;  wit- 
ness, 22-24. 

Logan,  Stephen  T.,  Lincoln's  law  part- 
ner, 70. 

M'Ginnis,  Capt.  D.  D.,  308-309. 

McNeely,  Tom,  243. 

Marshall,  Thomas  R.,  spoke  against 
Clay,  112ff. 

Menifee,  Richard  H.,  60. 

Mentelle,  Mme.  Charlotte  LeClere, 
boarding  school,  58. 

Michaux,  Francois  A.,  visited  Lexing- 
ton, 5-6. 

Missouri  Compromise,  repeal  of  at- 
tacked by  Clay,  211-13. 

Morgan,  Capt.  John  Hunt,  285. 

Negro,  in  Kentucky  dreaded  slavery  of 

Deep  South,  188. 
"Negro  Law,"   attacked   by   proslavery 

element,  80. 
New    Salem,    Illinois,   Lincoln's   home, 

37-44. 

Offutt,  Azra,  33;  hangs  self,  41. 

Offutt,  Denton,  31-32;  arrived  in  Illi- 
nois, 33ff.;  Lincoln's  first  sponsor, 
36-44;  failed  in  business,  44;  horse 
tamer,  150ff.;  recommended  by  Clay, 
184;  letter  to  Lincoln,  240-41;  in 
England,  242-43;  letter  to  Lincoln, 
263-64. 

Offutt,  Resin,  33. 

Offutt,  Samuel,  moved  to  Kentucky, 
30-32;  lost  money  in  hemp  industry, 
150. 

Offutt,  Tilghman,  31-32. 

O'Nan,  John,  18ff. 

Parker,  Eliza,  married  Todd,  29. 

Parker,  John  T.,  endorsed  by  Lincoln, 
185. 

Perry ville,  battle  of,  297. 

Pleasants,  Lt.  Col.,  308-309. 

Pratt,  William  M.,  pastor  in  Lexing- 
ton,  154-55. 

Prentice,  George  D.,  founder  and  edi- 
tor of  the  Louisville  Journal,  78, 
310;  letter  to  Lincoln,  311-12;  visited 
son  in  jail,  334. 


INDEX 


391 


Preston,      Margaret      Wickliffe,      tele- 
graphed White   House,  292. 
Prewitt,  Richard  H.,  won  election,  320. 
Proctor,  Gen.  Henry  A.,  10. 
Pullum,  W.  A.,  Negro  dealer,  130. 

Randall,  Alexander  W.,  letter  from 
Lincoln,  303. 

Rarey,  John  S.,  horse  tamer,  241. 

Republican  Party,  began  in  Illinois, 
223. 

Rice,  David,  19ff. 

Rickersville  Hospital,  319. 

Ritchie,  Dr.  James,  second  for  Wick- 
liffe in  duel,  56. 

Robards,  Lewis  C,  "Negro  buyer," 
185-87. 

Robertson,  George,  counsel  for  Lin- 
coln, 216-17;  demanded  return  of 
slave,  299-302. 

Russell,  John  Todd,  179-81. 

Russell,  Mary  Todd,  177ff. 

Seward,  William  H.,  visited  Lexington, 
117;  friend  of  Clay,  118. 

Shelby,  Isaac,  3,  10. 

Shields,  Gen.  James,  almost  dueled 
with  Lincoln,  159. 

Slavery,  in  Lexington,  70ff.;  Lincoln's 
knowledge  of,  72;  Mary  Todd  fa- 
miliar with,  73;  Lincoln's  alarm 
over,  157;  extension  of  fought  by 
Lincoln,  214. 

Smith,  Gen.  Kirby,  occupied  Lexing- 
ton, 294-95. 

Speed,  Joshua  F.,  letter  from  Lincoln, 
253. 

Sprigg,  Mrs.  Ann  G.,  boarded  Lincoln 
family,  141. 

Stephens,  Alexander  H.,  228. 

Stuart,  Rev.  Robert,  professor  at  Tran- 
sylvania University,  52. 

Taylor,     Zachary,     received     Lincoln's 

support,  155. 
Todd,  David,  Pennsylvanian,  25. 
Todd,    David,    half-brother    of    Mary 

Todd,  317-18. 
Todd,  Eliza,  wife  of  Robert  S.  Todd, 

died,  48. 
Todd,  Elizabeth,  married  to  Edwards, 

57. 


Todd,  George,  brother  of  Mary  Todd, 
317-19. 

Todd,  Emilie,  313;  visited  Mary  Todd, 
215;  visited  White  House,  332. 

Todd,  John,  son  of  David  Todd,  25. 

Todd,  Levi,  father  of  Robert  S.  Todd, 
moved  to  Kentucky,  25;  married 
Jane  Briggs,  26;  active  in  military 
operations,  26. 

Todd,  Levi,  son  of  Robert  S.  Todd, 
126;  responsible  for  suit  against  Lin- 
coln, 207;  wrote  Lincoln,  330. 

Todd,  Martha,  daughter  of  Robert  S. 
Todd,  314-15. 

Todd,  Mary,  daughter  of  Robert  S. 
Todd,  47;  entered  Ward's  academy, 
51;  friends  listed,  52;  attended  Mme. 
Mentelle's  school,  58;  character  of  as 
a  girl,  63-64;  visited  Illinois,  66; 
heard  of  Lincoln,  66;  spent  last  sum- 
mer in  Kentucky,  68;  moved  to  Illi- 
nois, 69;  married  Lincoln,  70;  a  born 
politician,  71;  familiar  with  slavery, 
73;  knew  Clay  well,  100;  correspond- 
ence with  Lincoln,  143-48;  wrote 
witty  letters  about  Shields,  159;  let- 
ter to  Emilie,  223-24;  bitter  over 
Lincoln's  defeat,  238;  asked  to  in- 
fluence Lincoln,  324-25;  never  for- 
gave Emilie,  333. 

Todd,  Robert,  son  of  David  Todd,  25 

Todd,   Robert   S.,  son   of  Levi   Todd 
26-28;     married    Eliza     Parker,    29 
businessman  of  Lexington,  46;  chil 
dren    listed,    47-48;    wife    died,    48 
married    Elizabeth    Humphreys,    50 
bought    Main    Street    residence,    57 
first    president   of   Branch    Bank    of 
Kentucky,  59-60;  Whig  candidate  for 
state     senate,     107;     nominated     by 
Whigs,    165;    attacked   as   emancipa- 
tionist,  156-67;   died,   173;   filed  suit 
against  Wickliffe,  177ff. 

Todd's  heirs  v.  Robert  Wickliffe,  183ff. 

Transylvania  Seminary,  first  institu- 
tion of  higher  learning  in  the  West, 
2;  chartered  as  Transylvania  Uni- 
versity, 5;  described,  12. 

Trotter,  George  J.,  duel  with  Wick- 
liffe, 55-57. 

True  American,  antislavery  newspaper, 
102ff.,  116. 


392 


INDEX 


Turner,  Alfred,  169. 
Turner,  Cyrus,  169. 
Turner,  Fielding  L.,  74. 
Turner,    Mrs.    Caroline    A.,    brutal    to 
slaves,  93. 

Utley,  Col.  William  L.,  299-302. 

Vallandigham,  Clement  C,  Ohio  poli- 
tician, 307. 

Warfield,  Peter,  testified,  20-21. 

Washington,  D.C.,  undefended,  276. 

Whigs,  nominated  Todd,  165;  in  South 
favored  Douglas,  228. 

White,  Martha  Todd.  See  Todd,  Mar- 
tha. 

Wickliffe,  Charles,  53-54;  duel  with 
Trotter,  55-57. 


Wicklifre,  Robert,  108-109;  denounced 
antislavery  group,  53;  attacked  "Ne- 
gro Law,"  80;  Todd  filed  suit 
against,   17711. 

Wickliffe,  Robert,  Jr.,  candidate  for 
Congress,   83. 

Wilcox,  Gen.  Orlando,  commander  of 
Central  Military  District  of  Ken- 
tucky, 306. 

Wilmot  Proviso,  received  Lincoln's 
support  repeatedly,   156. 

Wilson,  Isaac,  established  grammar 
school  in  Lexington,  5. 

Wingate,  Joseph,  defeated,  320. 

VVolford,  Col.  Frank,  attacked  "Lin- 
coln government,"  322-23. 


ofHvx 


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THE  AUTHOR,  WILLIAM  H.  TOWNSEND, 

offspring  of  a  stanchly  Confederate  family,  be- 
gan early  to  collect  Civil  War  materials,  but  he 
was  almost  thirty  before  he  owned  anything 
about  Lincoln.  His  second  Lincoln  book  led 
to  an  acquaintance  with  its  author,  the  late  Wil- 
liam E.  Barton,  and  Mr.  Townsend  became  a 
confirmed  Lincolnian.  Today  he  has  one  of  the 
largest  private  collections  of  Lincolniana  in  the 
United  States. 

William  H.  Townsend  is  also  the  author  of 
Abraham  Lincoln,  Defendant  (1923),  Lincoln 
the  Litigant  (1925),  Lincoln  and  His  Wife's 
Home  Town  (1929),  and  Lincoln  and  Liquor 
(1934). 


UNIVERSITY  OF  KENTUCKY  PRESS 


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